


Consequences of Desire

by Nicholas_Lucien



Series: Myths and Art [2]
Category: Forever Knight
Genre: Angst, Art, Case Fic, Greco-Roman Myth, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Guilt, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Painting, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 07:26:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 31,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10432281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicholas_Lucien/pseuds/Nicholas_Lucien
Summary: Every decision and action have closely following reactions; every desire, consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own these characters and is not intended to infringe upon any copyright owners. No profit is being made from this work.
> 
> Art described are all original works.
> 
> Story includes references to:  
> Scene and dialogue from the episode 'Near Death'  
> That the ancient civilizations could have associated Ganymede with the creation of mead (also known as honey-wine and traditionally said to have originated in Ganymede's homeland) was postulated by Edmund Veckenstedt (Ganymedes, Libau, 1881).

_He felt desire vibrating through his link with his lover; he opened his eyes, knowing they would not be blue.  He was in bed, his lover’s arms encircled him, cradled him.  He stretched to kiss the base of his lover’s neck, then reached up higher to bite.  He saw the flow in the blood vessels just under the skin surface.  The thin barrier needed only to be easily pierced through, and then the blood flow could begin.  Fangs fully descended, the need to bite was so overwhelming.  He couldn’t hold back anymore and instinctually sank his fangs into the vessel.  Fluid flowed in, his maker’s blood and emotions aroused him even more.  He continued to draw in blood; eventually, he felt twin pinpricks of pain in his neck where fangs pierced his skin.  The exchange was now circular, and with each pass of sharing …._

Nick opened his golden eyes and jerked away from the naked body he was near while he brought his left hand up to cover his bare neck.  He was disorientated and confused; his dream had only seemed real.  But looking at LaCroix’s neck while he felt the matching tears in his own healing under his fingers, Nick realized he had apparently acted on his dream.  “Lucien, I’m sorry,” he softly apologized.

Lucien reached over to re-envelop the younger man in his arms.  “It is alright, Nicholas.  I accepted and permitted the embrace to continue; you do not have to apologize.  That is always a very pleasurable experience, regardless of the circumstances.”  Now that the various barriers Nicholas had erected to contain his desires were eroding away, it did not take much stimulus to rouse his beloved and have him act upon the thought.  Lucien was more than delighted to have that occur. 

While his fangs retracted and his eyes calmed back to their original slate blue coloration, Nick allowed himself to be ensnared and gently drawn across the slick black sheet on his bed.  Once returned to where he had been, he curled up against Lucien with his right arm across his lover’s bare chest.  He closed his eyes while the elder shifted under him.  He could feel the sun was up and quite strong, so he calculated that the time was probably mid-day.  Too early for a vampire to be up, Nick thought.  He tried to go back to sleep, but he found himself instead just lying there listening to the faint sound of the blood as the fluid slowly flowed through the veins under his sire’s skin.  After a few moments, Nick felt multiple parallel scratching sensations down his right arm.  The sensation stopped, then begin again, lightly scratching along his arm.  He opened his eyes to determine what was going on.  He watched as Lucien lifted a paintbrush up, then placed the dry semi-stiff bristles back on his skin and dragged them down the length of his arm again.  “What are you doing?”

“Not as much as I would like.”  Nicholas had only wanted to sleep after Dr Lambert’s late visit and he had obliged, but since his son was now rested and awake, he intended to make use of this opportunity.  Lucien continued to repetitively stroke the bristles slowly along the surface of Nicholas’ skin.  He was pleased with the dazed, unfocused look that his protégé had finally developed.  He leaned in closer.  “I would like to paint you, Nicholas,” he purred.

Nick had some difficulty concentrating, the repeating sensation of the bristles had relaxed him too much.  “A canvas?”  Lucien had never shown interest before in actually painting; his maker always tended to either watch the activity or collect the final product.  “I might have a prepared blank one around here somewhere.”

Lucien continued with the paintbrush.  “No, my beloved.  I want to paint on you.”

“What?”  Nick didn’t move, contemplating what, exactly, that meant.  He had to admit, the thought was intriguing and an activity they had never, in over seven centuries, ever done.

Lucien smiled; he knew he now had Nicholas’ complete attention.  He moved the bristles along the arm again.  “What do you think, Nicholas?  You have modeled for paintings in the past, would you be the canvas for another?”  He stopped the stroking paintbrush.  “Will you allow yourself to be my greatest masterpiece?”

Rumbling, Nick raised his head and turned his golden eyes to Lucien.  “Downstairs.  Now.”

Lucien answered the interest with his own deep growl.  Before he flew downstairs, he grabbed a small rucksack that had been left beside the bed.  Nicholas had already turned on the lights and was standing in front of the covered painting on the loft’s lower level and he quickly flew down to join his beloved.  In response to the impatient look he was given, Lucien held up his bag.  “Paints.  I did not want to use your oils.”  Nicholas responded with a lopsided grin.  Lucien kicked away part of a large light-weight beige canvas tarp that was on the floor, pushing it under the painting table near the easel; he did not want anything in his way.  He indicated the cleared floor.  “Lie down on your stomach.”

Nick did as Lucien ordered him, laying his naked body down on the cool floor, his arms up near his head and his feet toward the lift door.  He turned his head to the right to look at Lucien, only to have his maker gently grab his head and turn it away.  Lucien released him and Nick kept his head still.  He heard rummaging sounds, the snap of various plastic bottles being opened, and then absolutely nothing.  After a while, Nick couldn’t take the stillness any longer and was about to move when he felt fingers tenderly thread themselves through his hair, then a kiss on the nape of his neck.  This was followed by another kiss, then another, each subsequent one moving down his back along his spine.  Once the base of the spine was reached, the kisses stopped and a small amount of liquid splashed unexpectedly upon his skin where the last kiss had been placed.  Nick felt a liquid line of paint being poured up along his spine, ending where the first kiss had been applied.  Another rummaging sound echoed through the still air and then he felt bristles press though the paint to touch his skin.  He shuddered as Lucien slowly dragged the bristles through the paint line, spreading the liquid out onto his shoulder.  Then the process was repeated on the other side, smearing the wet paint onto his other shoulder.  By the time his lover had done this all the way down his back Nick was beginning to push himself off the floor. 

Lucien had been watching the reaction to his painting, and the very intense emotions he felt through their link confirmed that Nicholas was enjoying what was happening to him.  Upon seeing his creation about to rise, he gently pushed his living canvas back down.  “I am not finished yet, Nicholas.  That was only the first color.”  Nicholas moaned but stayed down.  Lucien felt his link vibrating in impatience; he supposed Nicholas had just realized how long this painting was going to take.  He smiled as he reached for his next color, a bottle of yellow paint.  Perhaps he would paint slightly faster than he had originally planned.

A large dollop of paint was the next sensation Nick felt, then the paintbrush bristles, a different texture and stiffness than the previous one, moved the fluid in a swirling pattern around his skin, ending along the sides of his ribs.  Nick tried to pay attention to the placement of the dots and the direction of the swirls in an attempt to imagine what design Lucien was making, but after a few moments he gave up trying, unable to completely concentrate as he began to relax again. 

Lucien looked critically at his painting.  The design needed another color, so he grabbed a different bottle.  He was pleased Nicholas was in such a relaxed state, though every now and then his beloved would reflexively rise to maintain contact with the paintbrush as he pulled it away.  During those times he would push the paintbrush upon the skin and Nicholas would drop back down again.

Nick found the feel of the bristles on his skin was confusing his senses; an activity he usually associated with sight was now being processed as touch.  The confusion was actually wonderful, he thought.  Nick partially closed his eyes, the feel of the wet paint as it slid along his back and the near silence of his maker lulled him into a trance-like state of relaxation.  He felt Lucien’s fingers touch his back, moving paint away and exposing skin while he drifted off.

Nick awoke to a sharp clicking sound.  He opened his eyes and was about to move when Lucien told him to stay still.  He heard the clicking sound again.  “What is that?”

“I am taking your picture, Nicholas, to preserve my artwork.”

Nick was curious as to what Lucien finally painted.  “Will I get to see it?”

“Later.”  Lucien put his camera down on the table.  He knelt down beside his masterpiece.  “Oh no.”

Nick became concerned.  “What?”  It still frustrated him that he was not allowed to look at his lover.

“It appears I forgot to sign this.  I will have to correct that omission immediately.”

Nick felt his right arm moved and rotated to lay upon his lower back, the wrist and forearm up while the back of the arm was smeared with paint.  Sharp fangs pierced his skin and vein unexpectedly, and the teeth were dragged to cut a long slice along his arm.  Before he had a chance to yelp in surprise, Lucien pressed his own arm over the cut and Nick felt his maker’s blood flow directly into him.  The intense emotion he received simultaneously through the combination of blood and his mental link was absolutely clear and Nick’s fangs immediately descended into place. 

With a snarl, Nick turned over to face Lucien.  He pressed against the floor and the wet pigments were squeezed between that hard surface and the skin of his back, but his attention was currently fixed, not on the paint, but upon the painter.  Nick reached up, grabbed his lover and fiercely bit into the neck, drawing blood and finally becoming completely aroused.  It was only a few moments before fangs pierced his neck as well, then Lucien pushed him down, breaking their contact.  Nick lunged upward again, but Lucien moved to be partially on top of him, holding him down.  The feel of his partner’s dry skin pressed upon his front distracted him from his initial goal.  He loved the texture of his lover’s skin, loved the feel of the constrained power in the muscles and sinews he felt contracting and relaxing directly under the skin surface.  Nick ran his hands up Lucien’s firm chest and down the arms to the wrists.  His sensitive fingers could feel the movement of the blood in the vessels just under the pale skin, the blood taunting him and tempting him.  Then his contact was broken when Lucien sat up, straddling him at his hips.  Nick tried to rise up again, but was again pushed back down. 

“Stay down, Nicholas,” Lucien gently ordered his crimson-eyed favorite, but he had enough experience with Nicholas to know his command would soon be ignored.    

Nick growled and tried unsuccessfully to raise again.  Thwarted once more, he closed his eyes as he felt Lucian’s fingers and palms stroke along the skin of his chest and arms.  He even felt the fine, smooth texture of Lucien’s ring as the metal glided over his skin.  Overall, this experience was different than the painting from before.  While the paint had been smooth and slick, the skin contact was slightly rougher.  Every time the fingers made their mildly-abrasive contact with his skin, Nick experienced a small fissure of heat.  As the fingers moved, the heat followed the trail, everything fading as time progressed, then stopped when the fingers lifted off him.  Then Lucien repeated the action.  Again.  And again.  Randomly throughout this process, Nick would feel a rough kiss, the lips making quick contact with his skin.  Other times the entire length of Lucien’s long fangs were slowly dragged across his skin, or just the extremely sharp tips, the pressure not enough to draw blood, but enough for Nick to want them to.   

Nick found himself repetitively rising just to maintain that limited physical contact with his lover for as long as possible.  Lucien moved down his chest, eventually spreading his legs so the elder could sit directly on the floor and still continue to caress him.  Now that his sire had moved off his hips, Nick could easily rise up and grab him.  Opening his eyes to see his lover’s vermillion ones, he pulled Lucien upward to be closer and kissed him, then used his fangs to pierce through the skin.  The blood he received spoke of intense desire, and more to come.  Lucien quickly bit him, then pulled away. 

Nick, released, abruptly fell back down on the hard floor.  Lucien resumed, with hands, mouth, and fangs, igniting first the skin of his abdomen and hips, then his thighs and the aroused tissue in between.  Each time, he rose that part of his body that had been touched, unwilling for the sensation to end.  Eventually, Lucien shifted and lifted his hips up higher.  Nick shuddered when, in a single fluid thrust, his lover completely slid into him.  He groaned in loss when that feeling receded, then let out a gratified rumble when the sensation returned.  This sequence was repeated, and he growled louder in pleasure each time he was entered.  Eventually, his voice took on a rough muted tone, hoarse from overuse. 

Lucien listened to Nicholas’ vocalizations and watched as his beloved’s crimson eyes partially closed in pleasure, then opened each time he withdrew.  He continued, feeling the undulating emotional state of his aroused favorite through his mental link.  Once the moans he was eliciting began to silence, he thrust deeply one last time, then leaned over so Nicholas could reach and bite his neck first. 

Through half-closed eyes, Nick saw the approaching offered neck, grabbed Lucien’s shoulders to bring his lover even closer, and instinctually struck, driving his fangs into the surface vein and extracting out more fluid than he had been able to get before now.  Just like the first time he ever tasted Lucien’s sweet blood in passion, he was overcome with waves of physical and mental pleasure.  This was his lover’s blood.  This was the blood that had given him his immortal life.  Nick drew out more of the thick liquid and gave back the mixed blood to his lover once he felt Lucien bite so that he too could experience their fusion.  This cyclic passing continued, becoming the newest iteration in their unending cycle that had begun over seven hundred years before.  

With each pass of sharing, the expereince was amplified and Nicholas, finally overwhelmed during their joint climax and release, had shuddered then passed out before Lucien had finished and completely withdrew.  Nicholas’ blood had been completely saturated with love for him, and it was with reluctance he had stopped taking more.  He did not want to drain Nicholas too much as his child would need some amount of blood for recovery.  Wonderfully exhausted as only Nicholas could make him, he smiled in contentment as he looked down upon his exquisite creation.  Sighing, Lucien curled protectively around his beloved’s left side, grabbed the tarp and pulled the cloth over to cover both of them, then laid his head on Nicholas’ upper chest and slept away the last remnants of the day upon the floor.

The mechanical rumble of the loft elevator’s motor as it was hauling up the protesting elevator car by the attached cables woke LaCroix.  He felt Nicholas shift beside him, but the grinding noises of the gears had not awakened his son, nor had the following sound of metal roughly rolling along its metal track. 

Natalie entered Nick’s loft through the freight elevator, raising the safety grille and sliding the large metal door open as soon as the lift reached the desired floor.  She had come over to drop off a large bag full of freshly-prepared protein shakes before Nick left for his shift.  She picked up the bag, balanced it precariously on her right hip as she walked out of the elevator car into the lighted home.  Natalie looked up to the balcony and called out to Nick, thinking that he must be upstairs because usually if he was on the main floor he would have greeted her as the door opened.  “Nick, I know you’re up by now.  I’ve got-”  Natalie stopped abruptly when she shifted the bag and looked down, momentarily startled by what she saw there.  Nick was not where she had predicted him to be, but was instead supine on the floor near the table with the paint jars, his body covered in a beige tarp splattered with multiple colors of dried paint.  There was another body-shaped lump under the tarp moving next to him.  A cold feeling instantly blew over her after she realized who was probably under there with Nick.

Nick, having heard the noise of a mortal heartbeat close by, instinctually reacted.  The vampire, motivated solely by the most basic compulsions, emerged focused only on protection and survival.  Pulling the tarp almost completely off himself, Nick covered his sire with the extra material and roared at the intruder while trying to get up off the floor to attack. 

Natalie watched a partially raised, fanged, crimson-eyed Nick cover the other individual with more of the tarp and heard his challenging, primal roar.  She dropped the bag with the shakes inside the loft then quickly backed into the lift and yanked the metal door closed.  Mostly embarrassment at having interrupted Nick while he was with Janette fuelled her flight.  Natalie jabbed the button to return the freight elevator back to the ground floor so she could leave.            

LaCroix, mildly annoyed at being completely covered by the tarp like he needed to be hidden from danger, concentrated on keeping his son from lunging at the poor doctor who had disrupted their sleep and startled Nicholas, reflexively triggering the vampire.  Not that he cared about her, he simply did not want his son thoughtlessly killing that woman.  Nicholas would then enmesh himself in guilt over such an accident and would retreat so far back he might not be able to be reached again.  LaCroix knew he would lose his son forever if he allowed that to happen.  He continued to hold Nicholas and, through his mental link, encouraged his roused offspring to calm down and wake up.  When he heard the lift finally descend and felt his son taking over from the vampire, he eased up on his restraints.

Nick finished roaring, raised up into a sitting position now that the restraining hand had been removed, then blinked a few times.  Fully awakened, he finished suppressing the vampire portion of himself while he looked around, not knowing or seeing anything that could have provoked him.  “LaCroix?”

The elder vampire pulled the canvas tarp off himself and sat up.  He was touched that his son had instinctually wanted to protect him from possible danger.  That was a pleasant change from what their relationship had been.  “Everything is alright, Nicholas.  Your doctor had arrived and startled you.” 

“Natalie?”  He looked around at the nearby potential hiding places she could have gotten into, but didn’t see her.  “Where are you, Nat?”  He couldn’t hear any mortal heartbeat, and he was concerned at what might have happened to account for no audible beating sound.  Nick turned imploringly toward his maker.  “Where is she?”

LaCroix heard the fear and panic in his son’s voice and was irritated that the doctor’s ill-conceived action had put Nicholas into such a state.  “She had the good sense to correctly assess the situation, quickly calculated her probability of survival, and decided the most prudent course of action was to leave.  Immediately.”

Nick tightly closed his eyes, mentally chastising himself for scaring Natalie away.  With a groan, he dropped his head into his hands.  He didn’t even know he had been roaring at her and the dark thought crossed his mind that he could also have attacked her without realizing or stopping himself.  Nick was immensely grateful that his sire had held him back and allowed her to safely escape.  He also realized he needed to apologize to Natalie soon and make sure she understood he wasn’t trying to deliberately attack or drive her away.  “I need to talk to her,” he mumbled into his hands.   

“Yes,” LaCroix crooned in agreement.  “Talk to her about the dangers of startling a vampire when not ready to be awakened.  How an abruptly wakened vampire is usually lethal to mortals.  And about entering unannounced.”  The fact that Nicholas permitted a mortal to come and go so freely from his resting place was a shocking lapse in defense and security, the elder thought.  He had taught Nicholas better than that and was surprised something like this had not happened before now.    

Nick opened his eyes and let his arms fall into his lap, then pivoted his head to the left to face his maker, who looked slightly peeved.  “She has an open invitation, the same one as you have.”

LaCroix scowled.  “You know I do not like sharing,” he deeply rumbled.

Nick leaned over and kissed his sire’s neck under the bulge of the laryngeal prominence.  He didn’t want this to degrade into an argument, not when their rekindled relationship had just begun and they were on better terms with each other.  Plus, he was still wrapping his mind around the novel concept that his maker had actually stopped him from attacking and killing a mortal; LaCroix had stopped him from hurting Natalie.  Perhaps with all their recent sharing, his sire was beginning to understand and respect his decision to not kill, and how important Natalie was to him.  “Let’s just enjoy each other’s company before I have to leave for work.”  He could feel the slight irritation vibrate through his mental link at the mention of his job; he knew LaCroix did not like him spending so much time and being so involved in the mortal world, but this was important to him.  Nick disentangled himself from the tarp and stood up, feeling the smeared dried paint from earlier crackling all along his back as he moved his stiff muscles.  He dragged the fingers of one hand through his dark blond hair, not surprised when he discovered multiple chunks of paint in there.  He knew he needed a hot shower to relax his muscles and clean off the paint.  Nick reached down to grasp his maker’s now outstretched arm to help his lover rise.  “First, you’ll help me wash off all this paint.  I can’t go to work like this.” 

Once upright, LaCroix scowled down at Nicholas, thinking how to again convince his son to let go the entanglements of the mortals he surrounded and weighted himself down with.  Additionally, Nicholas should know by now he would not do anything to help or encourage this mortal lifestyle.  “Then why would I do that, Nicholas?”  He watched his beloved grin mischievously. 

“Because of the second activity we’ll do in the shower.”  Nick lightly kissed the place where Lucien’s right shoulder and chest joined while he let the fingertips of his right hand gently meander downward along the skin of his lover’s abdomen.  “I know how much you like warm blood,” he seductively uttered.  Nick could tell his sire had no problem with helping him get ready for work now.


	2. Chapter 2

Later that night Nick had finally been able to locate Natalie at the precinct.  He guided her over to a quiet area so they could talk and not be easily overheard, thankful that she was still willing to be this close to him.  He had been afraid she would be too scared and avoid him.  Nick began his overture to her on a safer topic than what he really needed to talk about.  “I want to thank you for bringing over those protein shakes earlier.  I know how much time is involved going to your lab, mixing them, bringing them over to my place, then going back, all before your shift starts.”

Natalie glanced around to make sure no one was listening.  She returned her gaze to Nick.  She knew he wanted to talk about more than just his diet regiment.  “Well, I want to help you and drinking the shakes is an important part of that and ….”  Natalie let her statement trail off into silence.  She could never let on how much she wanted to tell him that she passionately cared for him, which was a large part of the reason she wanted to help bring him back across.  He had never said their relationship was anything more than friendly, and she wasn’t going to pressure him.  She understood the underlying problems of being too close with a vampire; too many of the stories she had heard of Nick’s past had lethal endings.  Still ….

Nick could tell that Natalie was holding something in.  She was probably still rattled by what had happened, he thought.  “Nat, about what you saw earlier … I need to explain.”

Natalie did not want to talk about that right now.  She was uncomfortable, not about Nick being involved with Janette, but with the idea that kept recurring in her mind.  A small amount of jealousy, she had determined, that Nick was able to share that amount of his love with someone and that wasn’t possible with her.  Yet.  She partially raised her hands, palms outward; her hands quickly gesturing in time with her voice.  “Nick, there’s nothing to explain to me.  What you and Janette do together is none of my business.  I’m so very sorry I walked in on you both.  I can understand if you don’t want me just dropping by the loft anymore.” 

Nick looked at her quizzically.  He was partially relieved Natalie did not know it was LaCroix who had been with him; he didn’t want to try and explain their current relationship to her.  However, he needed to focus and apologize before someone came over and dragged them both back to work.  “No.  No, that’s not it.  I shouldn’t have … done that … frighten you.  It’s just you woke me and … I didn’t get much sleep during the day and … I wasn’t expecting you … and then you were just there ….”  He was never going to tell her how out of control he had been at that moment.  Nick reached his right hand out to her, but immediately stopped and dropped his hand.  He knew he didn’t deserve her friendship, not with his past, but he was grateful he had it and desperately didn’t want to lose any part of that.  “Nat, I am so sorry.  That’s not an excuse for what I did, it wasn’t your fault; it was mine.  You did nothing wrong, Nat.  It is absolutely fine to come over whenever you want to.”  He stopped rambling and looked down at her hands; this was harder than he thought this conversation would be.  “I like it when you randomly come over; it’s a nice surprise.”  Nick hoped he had not completely destroyed the trust she had in him.  He didn’t want to lose her, not because of the vampire that was within him; the vampire that had driven away or destroyed so many in his life and what Natalie was helping to rid him of.  He didn’t want to regain mortality but no longer have the possibility of being with her.  He looked at her again.  “I hope you still want to come over.” 

Natalie watched as Nick looked down, then finally raised his head.  She knew she had been a bit thoughtless.  She had assumed that Nick would be at the Raven with Janette, but she had to accept that Nick would sometimes have Janette over at the loft.  It was just she had gotten so used to Nick being alone, she never questioned just showing up with no warning beforehand.  And it was touching that he would defend Janette, she thought; Nick would always the chivalrous knight protecting others from danger.  Nick, I-”  Before she had a chance to finish, Schanke came striding over.  She took a step back from Nick.

Don could tell Nick and Natalie were having an intimate, private discussion.  He hoped they were really working on getting into a relationship; they matched with each other so well and he hated seeing them alone when they both clearly wanted to be together.  Don hoped Nick’s better mood lately was due to them taking those steps to getting closer.  Plus he could tell Myra they were together and maybe she would stop nagging him on the subject.  He walked straight up to his partner.  “There you are.”  Turning, he smiled at Natalie.  “Hi, Natalie.”  Don returned his attention to his initial target.  “Cap’n wants a progress report on the Duncan case.  As in pronto, partner.”  

Nick allowed Schanke to tug him away from Natalie, after promising her they would talk later.  Working their way through the noisy squad room, he realized his partner was agitated.  “Hey, Schanke, you seem a little worked-up.  Is it about meeting with the Captain?  Did you forget to file a report again?”

Don let out a small sarcastic laugh.  “Ya know, not everyone can be as diligent with the paperwork as you are.  But no, I’ve turned in all of mine, thanks for asking.”  Schanke nervously rung his hands.  “It’s not about that.”

Nick stopped and drew Schanke over to a random empty desk, removing them from the walkway so others could pass by.  He sat on the desk corner.  “Then what is it?”

Don curled his lips inward and bobbed his head a few times.  This was almost too embarrassing to talk about, but he knew his partner would help him.  “I still can’t find my handcuffs,” he whispered.  He watched his partner almost successfully suppress a laugh.  “It’s not funny, Nick.  I’ve looked everywhere for them.”  He paused.  “Can I keep borrowing yours?  Just for a little while longer, I promise.”

Nick smiled and nodded his head.  “Yeah.  Hey, you can keep them.”

Schanke almost hugged his partner.  “Thanks partner, buddy, ol’ pal of mine.  You have no idea what this means to me.”

“Sure I do.  You don’t have to ask the Captain for another set since you have no filed report about using yours.”

“Nick, I’ll find mine, don’t worry.”

Nick hopped off the desk, then patted Schanke on the shoulder.  “It’s fine.  They probably just fell under your sofa or something.  I’ll get another set; the guy ordering equipment and supplies owes me a favor.”  Nick flashed a quick grin.  “You know, the first sign of old age is forgetting where you put things.”

“Ha-ha, very funny, Knight.  You know, one day you’ll be as old as me.”  All his partner did was partially grin and nod his head.  Turning, he and Knight headed over to meet with Captain Cohen, who was sitting behind her desk in her office.  Knight closed the door once they were both inside. 

“Gentlemen.  I am getting a little pressure from the University.  Where do we stand on the Duncan case?  They are not happy they cannot have closure and stop the rumors about their former department head.”

Schanke squirmed under Cohen’s gaze and clipped vocalizations.  That particular case was not going well.  “All the lab techs,” Don began, “and forensics found nothing.  Almost every fingerprint in that office they lifted was too smudged.  The autopsy findings and conclusions are that Professor Duncan was killed with his letter opener.  There’s nothing else.  Not even any trace evidence under his fingernails, like the guy didn’t even fight back or anything.”

Cohen turned her attention to Detective Knight.  “Then are we seriously considering this case to be a suicide?”

“No.  Dr Lambert’s conclusion based on the angle of entry was inconsistent with a self-inflicted injury.  Duncan couldn’t twist his wrist and have enough force to make that type of wound.  And he didn’t fall on the opener, so that makes his death definitely a homicide.”    

“What about possible witnesses or suspects?”

Nick shook his head in frustration.  “We interviewed everyone in his department.”  He ticked the list off with his fingers.  “Student researchers, his lab tech and research assistants, and the other faculty.  They all disliked him; a few professors are actually happy he’s gone.  But none of them can be placed at the scene during the murder.  There was Professor Drych, the woman who found him and called-”

Schanke interrupted his partner before he could launch into one of his infamous wild hunches.  “Yes, she was there, and that explained why her prints were at the scene.  But she has been completely cooperative and open with us and even she didn’t know why anyone would want to kill Duncan.”

Cohen narrowed her eyes; she understood how frustrating this case was, and how hard her detectives were working on it, but this needed to be closed.  They could not let this one become a cold case.  “I want you to widen the search.  Talk with faculty from the neighboring departments that are in the same building.  Also, contact human resource to determine if they were aware of any whispers of hostility or any unofficial harassment accusations Duncan’s department might be trying to keep quiet.  I understand this will take more time, but with a case like this, we have to be completely thorough.”  She saw Schanke and Knight nod in unison, then dismissed them.

After leaving the office, Don went to sit at his desk and picked up the phone to make the calls for some of the school personnel they would need to get in contact with.  “You’d think the Cap’n would be happy we got all our other cases cleared out.”

Nick shrugged while he pulled out his chair and sat down.  He listened while Schanke made the phone calls and resigned himself to having to spend more time interviewing at the school, hoping people wouldn’t mind night interviews.  His partner would have to handle the interviews that could only be scheduled during the day.

A couple of days later, before going to the campus, Nick went to his sire’s flat.  He carried his newest painting safely protected in a large black carrier.  He knocked on the door and waited to enter. 

LaCroix, after opening the door, cordially invited Nicholas inside.  “A pleasure to see you, _mon fils._ I received your message that you wanted to meet me here as soon as the sun had set and was safe to venture out.  I thought you had your mortal work to perform?  Don’t they need you?”

Nick walked into the flat, careful to not bump this canvas, and ignored the slightly mocking tone in LaCroix’s last statement.  “Yes, but as I had said, it isn’t time yet for the professor I am to interview tonight to be available.  She has an evening class and I’m meeting with her after that.”  He heard the faint sound of music being projected through the space; he recognized the piece as one they had heard at the concert they had attended not long ago.

LaCroix actually did not care at all about Nicholas’ work.  As far as he was concerned, it was a temporary life.  Disposable.  His life with Nicholas was more permanent; that was what he cared about; that was more enduring; that was for forever.  He walked with his son into a more open space further into the home where there were some large leather chairs that flanked a metal and glass coffee table.

Nick placed the carrier on the floor and angled the bag so he could open it and extract out the painting.  He saw LaCroix sit down, an elbow perched on the arm of the chair, his chin balanced upon his curled fingers.  “I shouldn’t have let you move the tarp that was protecting my floor; I still can’t completely clean-up the paint.  Some of your colors must be permanent.”

LaCroix was pleased to hear that.  “Good.  That will serve as a more pleasant reminder of me than that burn mark on your elevator door.”  He watched as Nicholas carefully unwrapped the canvas, but showed only the back.  His son stood there, hesitant.  “Are you going to show me what you have been working on?”  Still his son did not move.  LaCroix softly sighed.  “Do you want me to close my eyes?”

“Yes.  And hold out your hands.”

LaCroix complied, amused that Nicholas could still be shy and nervous about his painting talent after all these years.  He felt the weight of the canvas as his son placed it in his hands.  LaCroix kept his eyes closed, knowing Nicholas would tell him when to open them. 

Nick let out a nervous breath and stepped slightly back, the better to watch his sire’s reaction to the painting.  “You can open your eyes now,” he softly spoke. 

LaCroix opened his eyes to look at the new painting, taking in the whole composition.  He was moved by what he saw.  The top of the background showed a darkened sky with just the barest indication of the Aquarius and Aquila constellations, while the horizon was colored in dark purples, yellows, and reds, implying a setting sun, but the sun itself was not visible due to the objects and individuals in the foreground.  In the painting he was seated on a marble throne, dressed as he had been when a Roman General; his metal helmet with the dyed horsehair crest placed on the marbled floor by the throne on the left side of the canvas.  Curled up next to the helmet, head up and keeping guard, was Lupa, the gray she-wolf that had suckled Romulus and Remus.  On the right side of the canvas was a thin silver-toned metal stand where an eagle with folded wings perched, the black talons curled around the bar and its head turned to look at the marble throne.  The glossy feathers appeared to be a rich blue-black color and the bird’s only visible eye was bright blue.

Sitting on the throne his head was tipped downward, his painted lips cast in a sensual smile as his ice blue eyes were looking at the other person in the painting.  Near the eagle, a younger man with dark blond hair was seated at the base of the throne wearing a white tunic with short sleeves that had a thin vertical Tyrian purple strip of color that began at each shoulder and ran down the entire garment.  His face was turned upward, passionately gazing with his slate blue eyes at the seated man.  Lucien ran his fingers carefully over the painted blond man; this was his Nicholas.  His beloved was holding a bright golden cup in the process of being filled by a thick stream of dark red fluid flowing from the golden pitcher in his other hand. 

Nick critically watched LaCroix’s reaction.  His maker had said nothing.  He was worried.  “Lucien?”

The elder vampire looked up.  He rose up out of the chair, then carefully placed the canvas in the vacated seat where it would not get damaged.  He walked over to Nicholas, who did not move, though he did look a little hesitant.  Lucien rolled up his black sleeve, exposing his left wrist.  “There are no words in any language I know to explain how I feel about you right now.”  He offered his arm. 

Instead of immediately biting, Nick unbuttoned the top few buttons on his own collar, opened the white shirt partially to expose his neck, then came closer and leaned his back against Lucien’s chest.  Nick took the offered wrist, kissed it, then sank his fangs through the skin, piercing a vessel and letting the blood flow in. 

Lucien waited a few moments so Nicholas could take the unmixed blood, then bit his beloved’s exposed neck.  He knew Nicholas was becoming mentally overwhelmed with their sharing, so much so that his son became unsteady and to prevent him from falling, Lucien secured him with his right arm.  He extracted his fangs and his wrist and held Nicholas until his beloved could stand on his own. 

“I love you,” Nick intensely declared.

Lucien smiled, feeling the matched desire in himself.  “Forever.”

Nick squirmed within Lucien’s grasp and managed to turn so he directly faced his lover.  He closed his golden eyes while he reached upward to delicately kiss lips, then gradually worked down to the base of Lucien’s neck, opening the black shirt collar to expose the skin as he descended.  He felt through his mental link the rising passion of his sire and opened his eyes.  He saw that Lucien’s eyes were now closed, head tilted back slightly, and his mouth partially opened.  Nick kissed the corner of the elder vampire’s mouth, then scraped his fang slowly along the entire length of his lover’s extended fang, creating a feral, visceral sensation that could not be ignored.  By the time Nick reached the tip he could tell Lucien had had enough with the rough teasing.  Snarling in unison with his sire, Lucien pushed him over and their razor-sharp fangs were already tearing into each other’s neck and extracting out blood before they hit the floor.  After completing numerous rounds of frenzied blood exchanges, each one via a new bite through the neck or shoulder, his lover finally broke the cyclic connection, stood, and moved away from him.  Rising to instinctively follow his maker, Lucien took his hand and led him over to an unoccupied chair.  The elder sank down into the seat cushion and gently pulled him down as well.  Settling in next to his sire, Nick resumed their joined embrace, but with a slower, more tender sharing between them this time.  Afterward, Nick was content to simply curl alongside and be enveloped by his lover’s strong arms while he slowly drifted back down from his elated state. 

Lucien listened while his beloved’s heart rate returned back to its normal rhythm.  Once calmed, Nicholas partially dozed off, so he continued the embrace, unwilling to move and disturb his child from experiencing this peaceful moment with him.  It pleased him that these moments were becoming more frequent as Nicholas’ trust in him was re-forming.  After some time, his son shifted and became more alert.  Lucien reached down and took his beloved’s hand, kissed the back, then looked at the watch attached to the wrist.  “Nicholas,” he purred, “as much as I want you to decide to stay all night, what time was your interview?  Perhaps you should cancel the meeting with that mortal and remain here with me instead.”

Nick sluggishly opened his eyes and glanced at his watch.  He had stayed longer than he had originally planned, but he calculated it was still possible to arrive at the campus for the appointment.  “I’ll have to leave the Caddy and fly, but I can still get there in time.”  With a sharp stab of regret, he freed himself and rose out of the chair. 

Lucien got out of the chair and stood next to Nicholas, running the fingers of his right hand along his beloved’s cheek.  “Pity,” he lamented, while allowing their mental link to throb with desire.  Nicholas gave him a lopsided grin, gently caught and kissed a few of his fingers, then released him.

As Nicholas got cleaned up to go off to his work, LaCroix contemplated the painting again.  “Nicholas, did I ever tell you that the red ambrosia Ganymede created and served to Zeus was sweet mead?”

Nick walked over to LaCroix as he buttoned his collar closed.  “The alcoholic drink made with fermented honey?”  He kissed his lover on the neck, slightly above the shirt collar, which was still open.  Smiling, he said, “a few times.”  Nick kissed him again, then turned to leave.  He knew his sire was deeply moved by the painting; the blood he had taken was saturated with that, along with an intense passion and desire for him. 

As Nick walked past some of the hung photographs on his way to the door he noticed an originally blank area was now occupied with a framed photograph.  He peered closer, then smiled with recognition.  It was the picture of him that LaCroix had taken.  There are random spirals of paint all over his back while in the middle the paint had been removed in a few areas and made the image of a smiley face; LaCroix was apparently happy with his masterpiece.  But it was fitting, in a way, Nick thought; he was also happy to get back a part of his life with his sire he had thought was completely gone.  

LaCroix went to hang the painting in his study as he heard Nicholas leave through the front door.  He considered their newly rekindled relationship.  Nicholas was opening up, remembering and re-experiencing some of the joys and benefits there were to being a vampire.  LaCroix thought about what to do next; how to encourage his son to accept and embrace the rest of his nature and desires without the hatred and guilt that currently overshadowed such decisions.  And to leave the mortal world and his quest behind; such activities only brought his son more sorrow and anguish, not less.  LaCroix realized perhaps his more forceful and physically violent actions in the past were not the best strategy for this child.  Nicholas had always been, at his core, more passionate and sensitive than his other offspring.  He sat down on the leather couch, appreciating the new painting now that it was hanging above the fireplace, feeling the faint pull from Nicholas’ blood that was embedded within the fresh paints.  He considered his future strategies and options for a while, but the theme of the painting triggered an old memory that would not be ignored. 

 _1228 Paris, France_ < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < <

LaCroix looked down at this man that had managed to completely ensnare his attention and Janette’s as well.  Something about the mortal had captivated him and the elder vampire found that he desired Nicholas as none other before.  The first taste of the mortal’s blood, that deep red intoxicating honeyed ambrosia, had ignited a level of passion in himself he had thought was nonexistent.  LaCroix knew he wanted Nicholas, and that Janette wanted him too; this young man would thus be a fitting addition to their original couplet.

Nicholas had responded to the darkness in Janette, sought it with passion, and so LaCroix knew the man had found within her the match to his own hidden darkness.  Janette had been insightfully correct on this matter; Nicholas should be offered the most precious gift they had.  LaCroix had promised to bestow upon the mortal a gift only the gods could grant; the gifts only Zeus could grant: to never age and to never die. 

He could feel through his mental link with his daughter that she was drawn passionately to Nicholas, though it was but with a fraction of the desire he personally felt.  Janette had thought about bringing the man across herself, but he had decided against that.  LaCroix knew his daughter would not have been able to hold herself back from this warm temptation, and he was not willing to risk losing Nicholas in the process.  So he sent her to prepare and entice the young man, then he would personally ensure this mortal would successfully come across. 

LaCroix had drained nearly everything out of Nicholas; he had gotten so enraptured with the experience of sharing that he barely stopped just before it was too late.  But he knew this knight was strong, had survived so much, and would survive this process.  LaCroix knew this particular child would require much more care than he usually gave to his offspring, but he was willing to invest the time.  This one would be interesting, he could already sense that. 

Looking down upon the fair-haired man, LaCroix was suddenly struck with a memory from his mortal days: the tales of the golden-haired Ganymede, brought by the favored eagle to Zeus himself, so enthralled the god was with the young mortal man.  That man had been granted Zeus’ eternal gifts and had been permanently taken away and protected from the claws of Death.  The new immortal served as the cupbearer, eternally pouring out his red honeyed libation first to Zeus, then to the other gods.

Janette watched Nicolas, waiting.  No other mortal had stirred her like this one had.  She had never experienced such a desire, one that wanted the individual more than their blood.  But the risk, her maker had pointed out, that she would fail and kill him was more than she was willing to take.  Fortunately, LaCroix wanted Nicolas as well and had agreed to bring him across.  However, as the night progressed, her concern had increased; Nicolas still had not come back.  The longer this state continued, the less likely his conversion would occur, though her maker was convinced he would return.  She bent over to kiss Nicolas, but pulled back.  She would not have her last kiss with him be one for the departing dying; she would touch him again when he returned to live.  “Oh, I want him,” Janette moaned.   

LaCroix eyed the young man; it had been some time but Nicholas had not returned yet.  He knew the mortal was being given a choice: to continue and be ferried on toward death and the afterlife by going through the gateway or to return.  But Nicholas was spending too much time; surely this boy was not so foolish as to attempt to barter with Hermes, LaCroix thought.  What the psychopomp Guide never explained was if Nicholas took too long and rejected going through, and thus wanted to come back, he would instead be stuck there.  Unable to return to a dead body, and without any obol as payment, Charon would have Nicholas wander the ethereal land for eternity.  LaCroix refused that choice, and he refused to believe Nicholas would choose eternal death instead of eternal life with him.  He refused to be denied this man.  LaCroix knew he would snatch and abduct this one from Death itself and bring Nicholas back to him. 

LaCroix leaned over and spoke, letting his future child know what was happening, reminding him what he should do.  “Come back to _me_ , Nicholas.” He would accept no other alternative.  LaCroix saturated his blood with desire for only Nicholas, bared his fangs, tore into his left wrist, and fed his immortal blood to his protégé.  This would help pull the young man back; help him choose the correct option; help guide Nicholas to his true desire.  And it worked.  Like a man falling and reaching out to be saved and hauled back up, Nicholas had gripped onto both his and Janette’s hand.  Nicholas’ mouth then latched onto the cut in his own wrist and extracted out more of his precious, ancient blood; latched onto and pulled aggressively at his very essence and he felt not only his blood flow outward, but part of his mind as well.  As he made the mental contact with Nicholas, the fledgling’s mind reverberated back, forging the connecting link they would eternally share now that they were maker and offspring.  Once Nicholas finished drinking, his wrist was released and LaCroix watched as his two children passionately embraced. 

The elder vampire clutched his bleeding, but healing, wrist.  He had not expected such fierceness, such passion for life, from one who had taken so long to decide to come back.  LaCroix was surprised by this, and he was not often surprised, which enthralled him even more.  He felt the intensity of the vibrating connection between Nicholas and Janette and felt the more intense feeling in himself for Nicholas.  But would his passionate interest be reciprocated, LaCroix wondered.  He would not force or order such a relationship from an unwilling individual.  He would have to wait to find out, though Nicholas had followed the desire-saturated blood back to him.  And if the desire was truly matched, he dryly thought as he saw that his progeny were still engrossed with each other, he would have to share with Janette.  He normally disliked sharing, but allowances could always be made for his children.   

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > _Present Day_

LaCroix blinked to bring his focus back to the present, the intensity of the memory leaving a smile on his lips.  With a longing sigh, he returned to determining what to do about Nicholas now.  His various contemplations kept returning back to the doctor, strangely enough, as if she was the fulcrum.  However, taking the Lambert woman and thus removing her influence, he had come to realize, was not going to solve the long-term problems.  Killing those that Nicholas had become smitten with, whether he or his son performed the actual act, was a dangerous move.  The ballerina in Paris had, if nothing else, confirmed that.  Her death had driven Nicholas in the wrong direction, which could not be allowed to happen again.  LaCroix had thought he might be able to force the doctor away from Nicholas but concluded that, most likely, the strategy would not work; after all, his son had tried to attack her and she still would not leave him.  Any overtly violent action from him would simply drive her closer to Nicholas, and he would have to endure his son’s anger for the blatant interference.  He would not use such a ploy and risk losing his current relationship with his beloved for no benefit.  

He got up off the dark leather couch and went to the kitchen area to pour himself a small glass of undiluted human blood.  LaCroix placed the bottle on the counter while he sat down on the closest bar stool.  As he sipped the dark red fluid from his wine glass he considered a different angle to the Lambert problem.  Completely removing or otherwise abruptly ending her relationship with Nicholas was not an option.  Instead of removing her influence, LaCroix thought, perhaps he could re-direct it.  He slowly placed the glass down on the counter.  She obviously cared for his child, and Nicholas listened and responded to her, so the possibility existed that she could be used to encourage his son to move, not away, but toward keeping him a vampire.  Or, LaCroix thought, at least stopping that unnatural diet she still foisted upon Nicholas, which would be a step in the right direction.  He would have to be very careful in his planning.  LaCroix knew this would have to be completely her choice; he could not hypnotize her into doing this lest Nicholas find out.  He tapped his ring band against the counter as his mind quickly ran through a number of scenarios with the ultimate goal of determining which would help his son the most.  His finger tapped a final time, then he stood up and prepared to leave.                


	3. Chapter 3

Natalie sat at her desk in her turquoise-tiled autopsy room, the recently dropped off manila envelope containing the plasma results from Nick’s centrifuged blood samples in her hands.  She had been staring at this for a while before she took a fortifying breath, unwound the red string that was keeping the envelope closed and then pulled out the stapled packet of papers.  From the assays she had already run so far, she had a general idea of what these test results would show.

She flipped past the cover page to the first batch of result pages which showed the levels for the metabolic panel and blood enzyme assays.  The levels of electrolytes, lipoproteins, vitamins, and other molecules were very similar to the last few check-ups.  She let out a short, frustrated sigh.  The new protein shake recipe was supposed to raise the concentration of these compounds.  There were only two conclusions she could come up with to account for these numbers: either Nick was not drinking the shakes or the recipe was not having a significant effect.  Natalie shook her head at the first thought; Nick had promised he was drinking the shakes this time and she would accept his word.  That left her with the alternative conclusion: there was no effect on the levels of these blood components or the effect wore off too quickly to be of any use.  At the end of this analysis, she picked up her pen and wrote down the summary that appeared so often in her research notebook.  She stared at her inked conclusion, the precise scientific wording masked her real thoughts on the matter: another failed recipe, another dead-end.  Nick would never say it, but Natalie felt like she had failed him.  Again. 

Natalie flipped to the next set of results.  Various hormone and neurotransmitters associated with stress reduction, mood, and arousal were all very high.  That would go along with his recent change in behavior, she thought.  Everything else was similar to the last performed tests.  Natalie laid the stapled sheets of paper down on the desk.  Thinking of Janette, she doubted her protein shakes were the source of Nick’s changes in those particular levels.  She wrote down her thoughts into the notebook.  Going to the last page of the assay results, this one associated with the digestive system, Natalie was slightly encouraged.  Hormones associated with an increased appetite were higher than before.  Perhaps Nick was feeling a rise in his appetite, Natalie thought; she decided she would try prodding him again to try some solid food.  She scribbled the positive result in her book, though her elated feeling did not last long.  Too many of the other results were discouraging and, even though she wanted to focus on the positive, it was hard to maintain the feeling of truly accomplishing anything.   

Flipping the notebook a couple pages back, Natalie re-read some of her prior entries.  The red blood cell counts and smears she had performed herself to detect human cells had remained the same as all previous times: zero.  She rubbed her hand across her forehead, her wavy light brown hair flying randomly out of the way.  Nothing so far had made Nick’s body produce its own human cells, a necessary step in bringing him back across. 

She gathered together the panel results and slid them back into the envelope, put that and the notebook in her lower desk drawer, then locked it securely.  Natalie leaned back in her squeaking chair, thinking how to interpret all this analysis against the assay she had just run this evening.  Had run multiple times, actually.  She always put off the UV light exposure test for last, probably because of all the testing, the UV one would tell her the most if anything was changing in Nick or not.  The blood she exposed tonight had begun to heat up and burn at a lower exposure time than before, though the majority of the sample did not completely disintegrate until more exposure time had passed.  Earlier burn meant only one thing: Nick’s body was showing regression; the vampire was fighting back.  Natalie got up and paced around the room as she had often watched Nick do, wondering how she could reverse this new development.  She had always told him that a cure would not be quick and easy, but right now she wished it was.  She had learned to accept periods of stagnation in Nick’s progression toward mortality, she reminded herself; it was backsliding she had difficulty dealing with.   

As she finished pacing out her third circuit she saw in the corner a very large spider crawling along the floor.  She immediately stopped and dashed to her desk to grab a handful of tissues from the box, then returned to where the spider was.  It had moved even further into the room.  With a grimace, she stooped down in order to squish it when she felt a presence, the sensation similar to the feeling she got when Nick was around.  She leapt backward when a pale hand reached down near her and delicately scooped up the spider.  Natalie stood up and watched as an older man with short light gray hair dressed all in black rose up, the spider standing still in the palm of his outstretched left hand. 

He looked down at the rescued spider in his hand.  “Poor Arachne,” he deeply drawled. “The mortal weaver had offended Athena, so the goddess turned her into a spider.”  He watched as the spider started to walk around on his skin.  “This weaver offended you, so you were going to kill her.”  He raised his eyes from the insect up to the doctor dressed in gray.  “The goddess apparently had qualities in abundance that you lack: mercy and generosity.  I wonder if Nicholas is aware of that.”   

Natalie had been still, startled at first that a stranger had come into her autopsy room.  Now she stayed still because she finally realized who this person was, specifically the voice she recognized from the broadcasts Nick listened to over the radio.  This was the Nightcrawler.  This was LaCroix.  She had to admit he had a forceful presence about him.  She recognized the same sensation in him as in Nick, but stronger and more intense.  Not meaner, though Natalie knew the older vampire was often cruel, but deeper or warmer; a richer, darker feeling than in Nick and she found herself partially drawn to it, just like to Nick.  She had a desire to know what was hidden behind that shadow.  Natalie blinked a few times to refocus her thoughts; this was LaCroix after all, not Nick.  He was still staring expectantly at her with those cold blue eyes, apparently waiting for her to respond.  “It wasn’t a matter of being offended,” she replied, though she was offended by his last words. 

LaCroix smiled.  “No, I suppose that was not the reason.”  He dropped his smile.  “You did not approve of her leaving her dark, shadowed world to try and join your lighted one.  So without hesitation, you decided to kill her for that action.  Such compassion,” he sneered.  “Truth be told, based on what I have learned from my son, I expected a … different … reaction from you.”

She got the feeling they were talking about more than just the spider.  “So you would take and return her back to where you believe she belongs,” Natalie tempestuously retorted.  “Back to the darkness.”

LaCroix looked down to the spider, now crawling around and between his fingers, his sensitive touch receptors easily able to detect the movement of each of its eight legs.  “Perhaps, though she would likely just try to come out again.”  He flexed his fingers and crushed the spider into his palm.  Glancing back at the doctor, he could unmistakably see that she was angry.  “Why are you incensed,” he asked.  “You cannot be offended by an action you were about to perform yourself had I not intervened. If anything, you should be relieved; I spared you from the actual act of killing.  Isn’t that what is currently preferred?  To not … kill?”

Natalie knew she was going to squash the spider, but somehow LaCroix doing it just made the act more horrific, somehow.  She went rigid when he closed the distance between them and took the tissues that were still in her hand.  She watched him wipe away the remains of the spider, and when he then walked over and tossed it all into the nearby biohazard waste box.  “Why are you here?”

He did not like being rushed, especially by a mortal.  LaCroix took a deep breath and slowly let it out.  He detected the malodorous stench from the cleaning solutions used throughout the room along with the unique aroma of fruits emanating from her temptingly warm blood.  He then strolled around the autopsy room, making sure he was far enough away from the woman to let her think she might be safe, but close enough to let her know she was not.  “I notice this room is immaculate and meticulously organized.”  LaCroix ran his hand slowly along the smooth, shiny metal of the autopsy table.  “Cold.  Aseptic.”  He looked at her.  “I rather like it.”  He continued his perusal, noting that the doctor was tracking his movements. 

Keeping a wary eye on him, Natalie moved slowly toward her desk.  She didn’t want to move too fast, in case LaCroix decided to take up a chase.  She had in the back of one drawer some items Nick had given her for protection in the event an unwanted vampire ever visited.  From everything she had heard from Nick, Natalie definitely considered LaCroix to be in the ‘unwanted vampire’ category.  “I repeat: why are you here?”

LaCroix stopped moving and turned to face her.  “I find that, for whatever reason, my son wants you in his life, irrespective of the pain he suffers at your hands.  As a father, I am becoming more concerned about what he and you are doing together, especially since it is beyond the scope of both your normal police and investigative activities.”

Natalie stopped moving and snorted in disbelief.  “‘Concerned father’?  Since when?”

“I am eternally mindful of my child and what he needs.  For all you have been studying Nicholas, you seem grossly unaware of vampire physiology and what is required.”

Natalie nodded her head, her wavy hair bouncing slightly with the movement.  “Blood.”

“Yes.  Specifically, human blood,” he corrected her.

“Nick doesn’t want that.”

“And yet, it is what he needs.” 

“I think Nick knows for himself what he really needs.”

“I think there are some things that Nicholas is not telling to you.”

Natalie could feel her face become reddened, partially in anger at LaCroix, and partially due to the memory of what she had walked into the last time at the loft.  She knew Nick had a past he didn’t always like discussing.  He also didn’t tell her about Janette.  And now LaCroix seemed to be implying there was more she should know but didn’t.   

“You really are more appealing when you blush.  I can see why he likes to spend so much time with you.”  LaCroix raised lips in a quick smile; the smell of her blood was more potent, the increase due to her heightened agitated state.  “Nicholas has been less than forthcoming about his recent health.  Your profession requires fine attention to details, so I am sure you have noticed.” 

“Nick seems fine.”  Natalie pushed away the thought of the recent UV test results.  She could see LaCroix staring at her, coldly studying her.  “Nick is fine,” she insisted.

LaCroix cocked his head to one side.  “From what I heard, Nicholas tried to attack you recently.”  He waited for her to respond, but she was silent.  He slowly and deliberately trailed his eyes down to her throat, lingered there until he saw the neck muscles twitch and tighten, then looked up again at her face.  Her expression confirmed to him that she was very aware of what he had just done.  “Perhaps he was hungry,” he proposed.  LaCroix gave her time to respond, but there was only more silence from the doctor.  “It is bad enough that Nicholas weakens himself with animal blood, but to have consumption of that swill severely limited and the remaining diet substituted with an even more unnatural alternative … well,” he raised his lips in a quick sneer as he spread his hands, “you can predict the logical consequence of such an action.”

“The consequence,” Natalie began, as she took a step closer to him, “would be Nick being closer to becoming mortal.  Successfully switching his diet would be a significant step in the right direction.  I can see how that conclusion wouldn’t be to your liking.”

He dropped his hands back to his side.  “I thought you would have considered the actual consequence of creating a diet regiment that could result in a starving vampire, one that also spends a significant amount of time surrounded by mortals.  You risk an incident occurring and then the presence of Enforcers.”

 _Starving_.  Nick wasn’t starving, Natalie rebelliously thought; he was looking healthy.  Then she remembered.  The last time Nick had been looking better was when he had stopped drinking altogether in his attempt to go through a twelve-step program for addictions.  That time had ended in Nick almost killing one person at the Raven before taking off with the intention of attacking his sponsor.  No, Natalie told herself, Nick wouldn’t let that happen again; this was just LaCroix trying to meddle with Nick’s quest once more.  “You just don’t want Nick to try any of my treatments and cures because one might work and he’ll come back across.” 

“Ah, I understand.  You imagine you will help him assemble his dream into wings, then be the wind that allows Nicholas to soar out of darkness up to the light?  To free him.  Like Icarus.  Though Icarus and vampires do share the same limitation: too much sunlight is lethal.  So Nicholas tries your ineffective nostrums and is uplifted because he thinks and hopes it will work this time.  Nevertheless, it does not.  Your wax on his wings melts and he plummets back down.  So you try a different solution, a different wax, but it melts again.  Tell me, Doctor, how many times will you let him fall?  How many times will you let him get hurt?  Is it because Nicholas can regenerate and heal you think you can break him over and over with these failing treatments of yours?”      

“I’m trying to help him, not hurt him,” Natalie defensively snapped.

LaCroix took a small step closer to her, noting that she did not retreat.  “Then let us, his own kind, his family, take care of him.  Let him heal from you and your … help.  I would be saddened to ever learn that Nicholas had killed you.” 

Natalie stood her ground before LaCroix, narrowing her eyes.  She doubted he really cared at all about her, and she was not going to be scared off.  “I’m not afraid of Nick,” she forcefully stated. 

“Really?  Then obviously he has not told you what he did in the past to those mortals that had hurt him.”

Natalie was so infuriated she didn’t even know where to begin with the elder.  She would never deliberately hurt Nick, and he wasn’t like his past self anymore.  She also knew she would never abandon Nick, and definitely not leave him exposed to LaCroix.  Her need to defend Nick was the strongest desire she had at the moment, even if it meant taking up a weapon.  But LaCroix was a very powerful vampire, and Natalie knew she would not survive if she physically attacked him.  Then she recalled what Nick had told her a while ago, some things that he had learned to not bring up to LaCroix because they quickly aggravated the elder vampire.  Natalie knew she shouldn’t do this, but she really wanted to give back some of the irritation and nettling she had received from him.  “Nick did tell me some of his past, and a little about you.”

LaCroix smirked.  “I am flattered.  All good things, I trust.”

“So you were Italian when you were mortal?”

LaCroix stretched to his full height.  “I was not Italian,” he promptly retorted.  “I was a Roman citizen.” 

She noticed his snide smile had quickly disappeared and had been replaced with a scowl.  “Oh, is there a difference?” Natalie innocently asked.  “My mistake.  I thought Rome, or Pompeii, or wherever you were from, is in Italy.  Ergo, making you Italian.”

LaCroix let out a low growl in irritation.  “There is a considerable difference between the two, if you remember history.”

Natalie nodded her head in mock agreement.  “Well, even so, I do seem to recall the most important part of that history: in the end, the Roman Empire was overthrown and destroyed.”

LaCroix was not amused by the implication that had just been issued from this defiant woman.  “You are very irksome, Dr Lambert.”  He did not know what to think about this mortal that could so easily aggravate him and, much to his surprise, his first thought had not been to kill her, but to continue to argue with her.  “And here I thought we were having a pleasant conversation with each other.”

Natalie, emboldened since he had not attacked her yet, so reasoned he probably was not going to, took a step toward LaCroix and was surprised he took half a step back from her.  “I want to make sure you understand this, LaCroix: I will not leave Nick, and I will not stop helping him.”  She watched a sneer flash quickly across his face and wondered if she had pushed her luck too far.    

LaCroix found he was becoming intrigued; she did not back down from him as easily as he had assumed, but instead appeared more than willing to match and fight him.  And that he had spent more time with her than he had originally planned surprised him.  He pushed those interesting, but distracting, thoughts away, for now.  From her behavior it was obvious she was as protective of Nicholas as Janette could be.  “You have made your point, quite clearly, that you are dedicated to Nicholas.  I can tell you have a strong influence on him.”  He quietly rumbled, still dissatisfied with that particular fact.  Similar to Janette she might be, but Janette was at least obedient to him and this doctor most definitely was not.  Still, she had her uses.  “I hope you will not underestimate the effect you have in his life.”  Smiling at her quizzical look, he turned to leave since his current business with her was concluded.  He still had other activities to attend to before the evening was over. 


	4. Chapter 4

Leaving LaCroix’s penthouse, Nick climbed the stairs that led to the roof.  There was a light breeze this summer night and as he took off to the University he enjoying the feeling of freedom flying gave him and the smells the wind carried to him.  It had been a long time since he had abandoned himself completely to the experience, and he allowed himself some time to do that.  One of his goals, which Natalie encouraged him in this, was to not use his vampire abilities and to act like a mortal, but he could only suppress the desires for so long.  Giving in to the desire to fly was safer, Nick thought, compared to the vampire getting out to hunt and feed.  He indulged himself and rose higher into the night sky, moving further away from the mortals below.   

Finally arriving at the campus and landing in the shadows behind the brick and stone building he needed, Nick walked around to the stairs that led up to the front doors.  A smile still played on his face; he had thoroughly enjoyed flying over, and he would have missed out on that opportunity had he driven.  And, Nick thought, he had also thoroughly enjoyed the reason why he was not able to drive and had to fly.  He climbed the stairs and grabbed the handle, then opened the door and entered the building, focused now on his job. 

Nick found the classroom on the first floor and waited in the hallway since the class wasn’t quite over yet.  The instructor was still giving last-minute directions but that did not stop the first few students who were already spilling out of the room.  As the door opened again he saw the professor look over and indicate that she was aware he was in the hall.  When almost all the students had left, Nick entered the classroom.  He watched as the professor accepted a paper from the last student, put the assignment on top of a stack of other papers on the table, then turned to the young man next to her. 

“Okay, Dan,” she pushed the whole stack to him, “you know what I am looking for and I need them all graded by next week.  Don’t just skim over them like my last teaching assistant did.”  She saw him nod his head as he began to stuff the assignments into his bag, preparing to leave.  She turned and walked over to the blond-haired man that was waiting near the door.  She extended her hand to shake his.  “You must be Detective Knight,” she said.

He quickly made contact with her, then withdraw his hand before she took too much notice of his cooler temperature.  “Yes.  Thank you for being able to give me some of your time, Professor Hilk.  I just have a few questions to ask you tonight.”

“Yes, of course.  If you don’t mind, can we talk as I go over to my office?  It’s just down the hall.”

“Sure.”  Nick held the door open for her and they walked side by side down the cream-colored hallway toward the copy room and the offices that were all at one end. 

“I’m actually a little confused why you need to talk to me.  As I’m sure the secretary told you, I’m in the English department, not Chemistry.”

“Well right now we are talking to anyone who might have heard something, or had any contact with Professor Duncan.”

“Duncan was not someone I would voluntarily have contact with,” she stiffly replied.  “I assume you have learned something of him from those in his department.”  

“You found him difficult?” Nick prompted.

“Yes.  Actually, everyone found it difficult to interact with him, and it was just best to avoid it altogether.”  She stopped and turned to face the detective.  “Duncan was the head of a small research lab and of the whole department, and as such, often had to make the tough choices that would make him not well-liked.  However, Duncan seemed to enjoy it, making his subordinates unhappy, frustrated, or miserable.” 

Nick put his hands in his pockets.  “But you’re not in Professor Duncan’s department.  You wouldn’t have had to report to him, nor would his professional decisions affected you.”

“Duncan liked to tell others how to run their departments, give advice to their instructors on how to handle their classes, and tell students who were not his advisees what courses and majors to select.  He liked to be praised for his wisdom, and was mean when not acknowledged.”  She sighed.  “Look, when I was hired, my colleagues here told me to avoid dealing with him whenever possible, and I completely heeded that recommendation when I could.  But it was tough to entirely avoid him and I tried to not pay too much attention to his mean comments.”

“So he was mean?  How, exactly?”

She turned to continue walking toward her office, pulling the key out of her pocket.  “He could be mean on a personal level.  Critiquing your choice of clothes or what you were eating for lunch.  Petty things like that.”  She opened her office door and entered the lit room.  “I heard from faculty in his department that since he brought in a lot of grant money, they were told his harassing behavior was to be tolerated.”

Nick leaned his shoulder against the door jam.  “Anything else he would do?”

She looked at him while reaching for her orange bag.  “You mean anything worth killing him for?”  She shook her head.  “Duncan was a self-centered tyrant, but nothing more.  And before you ask: no, he never did anything to me and I wouldn’t even think of killing him.”

Nick nodded his head as he backed up into the hallway so she could leave the office.  “One last question: where were you the night Professor Duncan died?”

She clicked the single light switch in her office, turning out the desk lamp and the ceiling light.  “I was at home with my husband and daughter.  If that’s all, I really need to go.”

“Yes.  Thank you again for being able to help us with this investigation.”

“Of course, Detective.”  She closed her door and walked to the closest exit to leave.

Nick watched her go, thinking that almost everyone interviewed so far had a reason to dislike Duncan, but those reasons just didn’t seem like enough to kill him.  He headed back to the main staircase, then climbed up to the top floor, which was where Duncan had his lab and office.  He wanted to see the crime scene again before everything was permanently removed.  Easily opening the locked door to the office, Nick flipped the light switch when he entered the room, then simply stood there; the school had left everything in place.  The faculty had been interviewing for a new department head and would soon select a person.  That individual would re-decorate and then all of this material would finally be removed.

Nick walked past the desk and looked at the space again.  Years of academic journals were lined up on the shelves of the many dull green metal bookcases placed along the walls.  One wall had a black chalkboard with various chemical reactions scribbled in multiple pastel colors and handwritings.  There were no photos of family anywhere, though Nick knew Duncan had siblings and two nieces.  He turned around in the room and saw nothing personal of any kind; everything here was work-related.  Nick stepped over to the desk and scrutinized the nearby corkboard which had many papers attached with red thumbtacks.  Some individual journal articles from the lab were randomly pinned up, along with Duncan’s current teaching schedule and another sheet showing his office hours for the week.  Attached to one corner of the board there was a small simple charcoal sketch on watery yellow paper, the majority of it hidden from view.  Nick tilted aside the pinned sheet of paper that was partially obscuring the artwork.  He could now see that the black lines created an image of a man who looked vaguely like Duncan staring in fascination at his own reflection in a mirror with a hand extending to touch the inverted copy.  Nick heard the sound of an approaching person in the hallway and turned his head toward the open office door.    

“Narcissus.”

Nick released the paper he was holding and it swung back to partly recover the sketch again while he turned to face the new arrival.  He recognized the woman that had found the deceased professor.  “Good evening, Professor Drych.”

“Please, Detective, as I said before, you can call me Aida.”  She indicated the sketch with the hand not holding a folded piece of paper.  “The artwork references Narcissus.  You can tell because of the reflection.”  Aida smiled at him as she walked further into the office.  “According to the myth,” she tentatively began, “Echo fell in love with Narcissus, but was rejected.  Nemesis decided to punish the man, so led him to a pool of water where he saw his reflection for the first time and fell in love.  Heartbroken that his love could never be returned, he killed himself.”  Her gaze flicked momentarily downward, then returned to the detective’s blue eyes.  “Sorry, I slipped into teacher mode there.  One of my history classes this term is on the ancient Greco-Roman culture and I covered that particular myth last week.”    

Nick glanced back at the sketch.  “Strange that Professor Duncan chose to have that sketch.  He seemed completely focused on his work; he has no other art here.”

Aida sighed.  “Actually, the story I heard was that someone dropped that off to him as a not-so-subtle way of saying he was narcissistic.  Professor Duncan thought it was appropriate, so kept it.  He never found out who had made it.”

“How long ago did that happen?”

“Oh, many years ago.” 

Nick heard the vague tone of her voice and decided not to pursue his question; she probably didn’t know.  Instead, he gestured to the hallway and started toward the door, gently herding her out of the room while he closed the door.  “So what brings you to this floor tonight?”  He thought that since she had found Duncan here, she would not want to be back.

Aida quickly glanced down at the folded piece of paper in her hand, opening and then re-folding it as she started to walk away from the office.  “Oh, I was just going to make copies of a quiz for my next class, but then once up here I remembered I am giving this quiz next week.”  She continued to walk down the hall toward the main staircase in silence, then stopped and turned to face Nick.  “So, did Timothy Duncan commit suicide?  Because I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill him.”

“We’re still investigating all possibilities,” he hesitantly replied.  Nick did not want to delve into details with anyone, and especially not with her.

“He was such a nice person, really.  No one ever gave him a chance,” Aida passionately said.  “Did I tell you that one time I dropped all my papers and he helped gather them all up for me?  He was very thoughtful.  Caring.”

Nick nodded his head.  “Yes, I believe you had mentioned that.” 

Aida shook her head.  “I feel so sorry for him, for what had happened.  No one here would kill anyone, I’m sure of it.  It was probably suicide, like Narcissus.  I can’t stop thinking that the sketch showed not only his life, but his death as well.  But you’ll figure that out and that will help everyone here find closure to all of this.”  She smiled at him.  “You seem like a real helpful person, Nick.”  Without waiting for a response, she resumed walking toward the staircase and headed down to her office a few floors below. 

Nick watched Professor Drych walk away, the vague nagging feeling he experienced when around her faded away.  He felt she was dangerous, but was at a complete loss to pinpoint any one action or statement she had made that would explain his feeling.  Maybe there was something else, Nick thought, or perhaps it was just her interaction with Duncan seemed to be so different than everyone else’s that it made her stand out.  Shaking his head, he went down the staircase to the first floor, forcing his mind to concentrate on the various reports and notes he wanted to prepare tonight and add to the growing case file.  As he pushed the building’s doors outward and exited, Nick halted half-way down the stairs before resuming his descent.  He had been surprised to see LaCroix waiting for him on the concrete path at the base of the exterior stairs.  Since their relationship had resumed, they had only been together when he had initiated the meeting.  Nick smiled; he was happy to unexpectedly see his sire again tonight.  

LaCroix had tracked Nicholas to this campus building and had watched as his beloved exited, seeing the concerned look on his face and feeling a similar emotion through their link.  He slowly shook his head as his son, now smiling, came closer.  “You are too troubled, Nicholas.  If you had spent your whole night off with me instead of engaging in this enervating mortal work,” he paused to enfold Nicholas now that they were closer, “I guarantee you would be in a very satisfied state right now.”

Nick grinned as he ended their embrace and stepped back.  “You know this work is important to me.  This is something I need to do.”

LaCroix looked down at his favorite son.  “I do recall you mentioning that a few times.”

“Why are you here?”

LaCroix looked around.  “I thought perhaps you would enjoy spending some more time together tonight.  Outside, for a change.”

“Now?”

“Yes.” 

Nick gave a small shake to his head.  “I have to write up my report on the interview and put it in the case file.”

“You were supposed to have tonight off,” LaCroix reminded Nicholas.

Nick shrugged.  “This is when I could get the meeting.”

The elder sighed; his child could sometimes be so stubborn.  “And this paperwork the mortals are so fond of?  Must it be completed tonight?”

“No,” Nick said amusingly, “but I really should finish it.”

He saw Nicholas’ small grin and knew he was being baited.  “Then perhaps I could accompany you as you go off to complete this paperwork.”

“I didn’t bring my car.”  Nick thought of the flight over to the campus, how free he had felt on this beautiful clear night, and he found he wanted to experience that freedom again, this time with LaCroix by his side.  “Do you want to fly over with me?” 

“There is no reason to hurry, Nicholas.  We could walk over.”

Nick nodded as he replied, “I’d like that,” then began to walk down the campus path.  He stopped after a few steps and looked back, noting that LaCroix had made no move to follow him.  “This is the fastest way.”

“You want to be rid of me quickly?”

Nick could feel his sire’s playful amusement through his link.  “No.”

LaCroix began to walk in a different direction.  “Then let us take a longer route.”

Nick pivoted and followed his maker.  They walked silently for a while, LaCroix picking their way through the campus and then into the downtown.  Sometimes the sidewalk was full of mortals, other times not.  But they were not doing as they had often done together in the past, they were not hunting in the city streets, they were simply enjoying each other’s company, so Nick slipped past the pedestrians without thinking of them too much.  Walking past a used bookstore, Nick commented on a few of the older titles in the window and, for a while as they walked, he simply listened to LaCroix’s thoughts on the texts before interjecting his own.  

LaCroix continued his march toward their goal, setting the pace and the direction, sometimes cutting through alleyways to reach the next street.  He enjoyed talking with his son, now that Nicholas was more open to him.  Over the last several decades he had missed the companionship, their talks and interactions with each other, so he was pleased that these were resuming.  After talking about books, Nicholas moved on to music.  And when there was no one else on the street with them, Nicholas would reach over and intertwine his fingers within his own. 

After they had passed by another mortal couple, Nicholas had immediately threaded through his fingers again.  LaCroix raised his arm and kissed the back of his beloved’s hand before letting their linked hands drop back down.  He could sense Nicholas was still slightly agitated below his calm surface and he knew the underlying reason.  “Nicholas,” LaCroix gently broached, “when do you intend to tell Dr Lambert about what is going on between us?”  Through his connection he could feel the ripples begin.

Nick let out a long breath.  “Tell Natalie?”  He shook his head in negation.  “I haven’t even told Janette that we’re back together.”

LaCroix let out an amused laugh, careful to not tint it with any mockery; he did not want his son to feel ridiculed.  “Do not be so naïve, Nicholas.  Of course Janette is aware of this fact.  You know there are no secrets among us.  Our bonds have been vibrating with this for a while now.” 

Nick frowned uncertainly, looking directly at his lover.  “She hasn’t said anything.”

“Janette has always been perceptive.  She will not say anything about this until you bring up the matter.  However, mortals do not have the same ability to know as we do.  They must be told, or shown.”  LaCroix paused, using his mental connection to calm his son.  “Nicholas, you know the mortals you associate with are detecting a difference in you.  This is especially true of Dr Lambert since she found you with someone.  What is she thinking about that?”

Nick looked away.  “Nat thinks I’m with Janette.  She says she’s fine with that.  I don’t think she’d react the same way if I tell her I’m with you.”

“Not telling her, keeping this secret hidden, is causing you great distress.”  LaCroix turned off the main sidewalk into another long alley as he talked, meticulously avoiding contact with the dark gray trash dumpster they passed.  “That does not need to continue.”  He paused for a moment, waiting for Nicholas to look at him again before speaking again.  “Do you need me to talk to her, explain this to her so she understands?"

“No!” Nick hastily shot back.  He broke away from LaCroix, turned around, and walked backward down the alley while continuing to face his sire.

LaCroix felt the violent churning of emotion and had seen Nicholas’ eyes flash golden for a moment.  “Nicholas ….”

Nick understood what that tone of voice meant.  If he truly valued Natalie, she should be told.  But he would do it himself.  “I’ll handle it.  I will tell her.  At the right time.” 

“Really?  You still have not told her you are not entirely following her newest diet.”

“Don’t bring that up wi-”  A push from behind caused him to stagger away from LaCroix before he could finish his sentence.

“Give me your money and no one gets hurt tonight.”

LaCroix scrutinized the middle-aged mortal man that now stood arrogantly before him, brandishing a small metal knife, the sharp tip pointed directly at his chest.  Nicholas and he were in no danger from such a weapon.  He smirked.  The mortal, however …. 

LaCroix heard the snarl before he saw Nicholas lunge at their mugger.  He felt the instinctual drive to protect and attack resonating from his son and reached out to grab his protégé.  Nicholas had gotten hold of the man but LaCroix pulled his son off, twisted, and pushed him back.  LaCroix detected a familiar scent in the air and glanced at the mortal who was staring at his hand, the fingers red from the freely bleeding twin cuts on his neck. 

LaCroix felt the feral change in Nicholas, the vampire completely surfacing having sampled human blood from a warm living source, and knowing it would want more.  It was only with his much faster reflexes that LaCroix was able to catch Nicholas before his son could sink his fangs in again.  He threw Nicholas back down the alley, then concentrated on the mortal.  Locking onto the brown eyes, he began focusing on the heartbeat.  “You will-”  LaCroix rapidly moved to intercept Nicholas’ newest attack, tossing him further back and hearing his son violently collide with the metal dumpster.  Returning to the mortal, he resumed his hypnosis.  "You will forget this.”  The mortal’s glazed look confirmed that the suggestion had taken hold and LaCroix ended his involvement with the man, then turned around.  Nicholas, crimson-eyed and enraged, had returned and LaCroix slammed into his advancing son, grabbing and twisting Nicholas to restrain him from behind.  Once somewhat contained, LaCroix took off into the air while he kept his struggling son from escaping.  He knew it was futile at this point to try to quell or reason with Nicholas; the vampire, suppressed for too long, had completely emerged and had only one goal in mind: to feed.  He held on tighter to his snarling creation as he rose higher into the night sky, increasing his speed.


	5. Chapter 5

Janette was behind the bar at the Raven listening to the clashing mix of sounds resulting from the music playing through the speakers combining with the patrons’ conversations.  She was pouring out a small glass of blood when her gloved hand shook, spilling some of the liquid onto the counter.  That was the only outward sign of the sudden onslaught she continued to receive from her links with LaCroix and Nicolas.  She turned to Miklos, indicated that he was to take over, then strolled out of the bar area.  Janette had no intention of letting anyone know there was a problem.  She made her way to the back of the club, then up the stairs to the roof.  Her maker would arrive soon; she could feel him approaching.

It was not too much time before she saw an incoming projectile land hard on the roof.  LaCroix stood up with a restrained and struggling Nicolas in his arms.  Janette could see that Nicolas was completely out of control, his crimson eyes wild with the need to hunt.  He was gone, temporarily suppressed while the vampire was completely dominant.  In concern, she reached out to him.

“No, Janette,” LaCroix ordered as he forced and dragged Nicholas to the door to take them inside.  “I need a room and a bottle of blood.”

Janette held the roof access door open, while, with a loud snarl, Nicolas tried once again to free himself from the older vampire.  She thought quickly.  “Take him to my suite and I will go fetch the animal blood.”

“No.  Human blood.  Undiluted,” he ordered as he clamped his hand over Nicholas’ mouth to try and quiet the vocalizations.  The last thing he needed was to alert even more individuals to what was occurring.  He hissed as his palm was bitten.  LaCroix watched as Janette moved ahead of him and opened the door to her rooms.  As he crossed the threshold, but before Janette left to retrieve the bottle, he gave one last order.  “I require curare.”  He saw her shocked expression and ignored it.  “I know you have some, Janette.  Bring it.”  He finally entered the room and heard the door close.

Janette rapidly acquired the curare and human blood, then entered her suite, staying in the front parlor area.  In the room she saw LaCroix still had Nicolas restrained, both men on the floor.  She removed the cork from the bottle, upended the curare and shook the bottle to mix the substance with the blood, then handed it to her maker.  She stood and watched as LaCroix forced Nicolas to drink the liquid.  She could tell the human blood was partially satisfying the vampire and eventually Nicolas calmed down as the blood and curare both took effect.  As Nicolas lost consciousness and LaCroix carried him to the bedroom and laid him down on the bed, he told her what had happened in the alley.  She shook her head in mild frustration.  “If Nicolas would not deny himself so often, then the drive would not be as intense.”

“It has been too long since he has fed himself properly,” LaCroix concurred.  “Nicholas suppresses his true nature too much, and there are always consequences when that control is lost, even for a moment.”  He went to get a chair from the parlor area and placed it near the bed, sitting down as he watched his son sleep.  He heard the door close as his daughter left with the empty bottle.   

Janette disposed of the glass bottle, then went to her office.  Closing the door, she sat at her desk and took a deep breath.  Picking up the phone, she dialed the number.  She knew her maker would not approve of who she was contacting, but what LaCroix did not understand was that these mortals in Nicolas’ life really did care for him and would be concerned for him.  They would come looking for him, and Janette did not want a squad of police officers and detectives descending upon the Raven asking too many questions about where Nicolas was and what had happened.  So instead she waited while the phone rang, waiting for the one person who would understand.  Finally the connection went through.  “There has been an incident.  Nicolas is here, and he’s safe.”  Then she put the receiver back on the cradle, ending the call.  She left her office and went to the club area to sit at a table near the front door, waiting for Nicolas’ mortal to arrive.  Janette had waited less time than she had calculated for Natalie to arrive, and once Natalie had come down the stairs, she rose out of her chair and walked over. 

“Where’s Nick?”

“Come with me.”  Janette ushered Natalie through the crowd of dancing patrons toward the room where Nicolas was still sleeping.  As they entered, Janette saw LaCroix recede and quietly exit without alerting the mortal woman to his presence.  Janette noted that her maker did not look furious about what she had done.  Perhaps, she thought, LaCroix did understand how much Nicolas valued Natalie and how much Natalie cared for Nicolas.

Natalie looked at Nick, who was still except for the movement of his eyes under his eyelids.  She sat down in the chair next to the bed, wondering what he could be dreaming about.  “He was just going to the University tonight to interview an instructor.”  She angled her head to look at Janette, who was standing next to her.  “What happened?”

Janette walked to the foot of the bed.  “After Nicolas finished and was leaving, there was a mugger.  Nicolas struck and tasted his blood.”

“What about the man?  Is he dead?  Oh God, did Nick kill him?”

“No, the mortal is still alive.  That is the problem.  Nicolas … the vampire emerged and wanted to finish the hunt, wanted to finish feeding, the drive overriding everything else.”

Natalie looked back at Nick.  “Then why is he asleep?” 

“Because of the large amount of curare I mixed into the blood he drank when he got here.”

Natalie’s medically-trained mind quickly recognized that substance and she turned to stare in concern at Janette.  “Curare is a poison.”

Janette shrugged.  “To mortals, certainly, but not to us.”

“What does it do to vampires?”

“In small quantities, curare intoxicates us.  In higher doses, well,” she indicated Nicolas, “you can see what it does.”

“Is it important that Nick sleep?”  She returned to watching him.

“It is important that Nicolas is either restrained or unconscious.  In this situation, the drive to hunt and feed from a mortal will last as long as their essence is retained.  That is typically a couple of hours.  This way is easier on Nicolas; when he wakes in a few hours the drive will be over.”      

“How much blood did Nick take to lose control like this?”

“He had a few drops, but when Nicolas is weakened,” she glided up behind Natalie, “it is harder for him to control himself.”   

Natalie didn’t ask how Janette knew what had happened or how Nick got to the Raven.  She didn’t want to know.  She was just grateful Janette had been able to help and that Nick would be okay.  “Will Nick remember this?”

“Probably not.”  Janette left her room and sat in the adjoining parlor room; close enough in case something happened with Nicolas, but far enough away so Natalie could feel like she was alone with him.

Natalie thought that it was probably best if Nick didn’t remember much of what had happened.  Even if he didn’t kill, she knew Nick would feel guilty about his actions anyway.  Fortunately, the attack occurred after the interview, so no one else was expecting to meet with him later.  Natalie was very relieved she would not have to explain anything to Schanke.

As she waited by Nick’s side, Natalie couldn’t stop the thought that Nick’s control was weakened so much because of her restrictive diet.  He was weakened because of her.  Natalie shifted uncomfortably in the chair.  The more she thought on this, the guiltier she felt.  She knew she pushed Nick, but perhaps she had pushed him too far.  And Nick, trusting Nick, had gone along with it.  LaCroix was right, Natalie bitterly thought, she didn’t know enough about vampire physiology and her treatments might have been too harsh and Nick just didn’t want to tell her.  Maybe he thought he could take it, or he thought she expected him to.  Of course, she further realized, Nick wouldn’t say anything to stop her; he didn’t want to disappoint her and she had said this regiment would help him get closer to his goal. 

Natalie put her hand on Nick’s, a tactile anchor to keep her from falling down too far into the stormy gloom of her thoughts.  But that only lasted for a short while.  Soon she was casting back through her memories and came to an even worse realization: maybe, in his own way, Nick had tried to tell her it was too much.  Perhaps all those times he had said the taste of the shakes were horrible, or skipping them altogether, or forgetting so many of her other treatments, what he was really trying to do was get her to stop.  And she had just dismissed it.  Scoffed at him.  Argued with him and coaxed him to do as she had decided.  She had pushed too hard, and this is what happened.  This was the logical conclusion Natalie had never considered in her plans, the conclusion LaCroix had said should have been obvious to her.  All she had wanted to do was help Nick.  No, Natalie chastised herself, it wasn’t only help, there was something more she wanted and that caused her to forget her most fundamental oath: do no harm. 

To distract herself from more self-recrimination, Natalie looked around the room.  There were a few paintings on the walls, but one drew her eye more than the others, though she had still quickly looked away.  The painting showed a naked Aphrodite walking along a beach covered in numerous various-sized shells with the foamy aqua sea churning behind her.  Different from other Aphrodite paintings Natalie had seen before, in this version the goddess had long dark hair and looked very much like Janette.  She didn’t know why, but Natalie just had a feeling that Nick had painted that one.  Probably the painting he had been working on recently at the loft.  No wonder he hadn’t wanted her to see it.

Natalie sat with her guilt for a while, until Janette entering the room and gave her another distraction.  She watched as Janette placed a few candles around the room.  “What are those for?”

Janette took a match from her matchbook, striking the tip against the book’s course edge.  “For Nicolas.”  She watched the dangerous flame rise up and dance before lighting the candles.  “Candlelight is better than the harsh light from the electric lamps.”  Extinguishing the match and walking over to the light switch, she flipped the lamps off as she said, “He will be very sensitive when he wakes.”                

Natalie got out of the chair and followed Janette out of the room.  “If Nick’s going to wake soon, I’ll leave.”  She saw Janette’s confusion, but Natalie felt perhaps Nick should finish recovering with other vampires who would understand what he was going through.  He probably wouldn’t want her there.  She quickly left to get to the club area and to the door that would let her out.  As she walked past the bar area Natalie saw someone she didn’t want to encounter at all: LaCroix.  He was sitting in a chair, delicately sipping blood out of an almost empty wine glass.  LaCroix was staring right at her, like he had been waiting for her to emerge from the back.  She watched as he arched a single eyebrow.  Natalie closed her eyes, averted her face from him, and increased her speed to leave the Raven.  She knew what his look had meant, and despite her first impulse to simply dismiss him outright, she thought of Nick and had to admit that LaCroix had been right.  That because of her and her treatments, she did bear some responsibility for Nick losing control tonight.   

LaCroix watched the doctor’s reaction and noted her increased haste to leave.  He grinned; obviously his talk with her earlier had made a lasting impression.  He rose from his chair and walked to the back rooms, depositing his now empty glass on the bar’s countertop as he passed by.  He returned to sitting in the chair next to Nicholas, whom he felt beginning to wake.  LaCroix smiled when he saw Nicholas’ blue eyes finally flutter open and tried to keep him calm, knowing his son was confused and distressed.  “It is alright, Nicholas.  You are at the Raven.”

Nick looked around the room.  Soft candlelight lit the space, and he recognized the paintings on the wall; this was Janette’s room, not one of the guest spaces.  He tried to rise, but there was an incessant pounding in his head and it was just easier to stay lying down.  He turned his head to face his maker.  “I remember the mugger, and vaguely recall hitting a dumpster.”  He clenched his eyes shut, afraid to ask what he might have done when he had been out of control.  “The mortal?”

LaCroix put his hand reassuringly on Nicholas, moving it in a soothing manner.  “Still alive and healthy, and does not remember you at all.”  He could see Nicholas finally relax and felt relief pouring out through their connection.       

“You stopped me?”

LaCroix heard the doubt and disbelief in Nicholas’ voice.  “Of course I would do that.”

Nick picked up on the indignant tone and stared at his sire incredulously.  “You are always wanting me to feed; to not hold back; to kill.  Why stop me this time?”

LaCroix sighed heavily.  “Nicholas, I want your first kill after such a long abstinence to be your decision and considerably more refined than some random delinquent street mongrel.”

“You didn’t let me kill Natalie either.”

“Well, with her temperament, I am sure she would really not be palatable, and would probably result in indigestion.”

Nick smiled; despite LaCroix’s prediction, he was sure Nat would be perfectly fine.  He closed his eyes, amazed and grateful that his sire had again prevented him from taking a mortal life.

By the next evening, Nick’s headache was long gone and he felt more rested and more in control.  Despite LaCroix’s concerns and objections, he had decided to go to work.  At the precinct, Schanke was going over his interviews and personal thoughts on the Duncan case, while he wrote up the paperwork he had not been able to complete the previous night.  An hour into shift they got a message that Natalie had her final report on another case and wanted to go over the conclusions with them at the morgue.  As Natalie discussed the results, Nick noted that she seemed more stressed than normal, and tended to avoid eye-contact with him.  When the report was over, Nick thought she looked even tenser.  He was following Schanke to the door to leave when Natalie spoke his name.

Schanke turned to Natalie, then to his partner.  He could tell she wanted to be alone with Nick and he was the third wheel in the room.  “Hey partner, I’ll just wait out by the car for ya.”  Don grinned while he bobbed his eyebrows at Nick.  “Don’t take too long.” 

“We need to talk,” Natalie said after the door leading to the hallway closed.  She took a long, deep breath, then let it out.  “LaCroix came here last night to speak to me about something you didn’t tell me.”

“What?” 

Natalie never knew a whisper could be so loud.  “I thought you could talk to me, Nick.  But I’m sorry you thought this was something you really couldn’t say to me.”

Nick turned his head away from her.  He wasn’t prepared for this and he had told LaCroix not to say anything about them being together.  He looked at her again.  “Nat-”

Natalie shook her head.  “Not here.  I’ll come by the loft after your shift if that’s okay?”  She knew he would be more comfortable talking about this at his own place than here.

Nick nodded, his mind completely blank, still unsure how he was going to completely explain to her about his current relationship with LaCroix.  “Yeah, we … we need to talk.”


	6. Chapter 6

Nick’s shift that night had been a shortened one because he had actually been working on many of his days off and this was the way to reconcile the time.  So, several hours after leaving the morgue, Nick was back at his place.  He had found himself pacing the loft, nervous about how much his maker had told Natalie about their relationship.  LaCroix must have been picking up on his ruminations because his sire had stayed away from him.  Too soon he heard the roughened mechanical scraping of the lift as it ascended, bringing Natalie up to him.  He went to the metal door to welcome her as she entered. 

Natalie walked into the loft, noting that Nick seemed weary.  She increased her grip on the bottle she had brought over, confident its contents would help him.  “Hi, Nick,” she greeted.

“Hi, Nat.”  He indicated the main living area.  “Do you want to sit down?” 

Natalie nodded, then headed for the nearest leather chair, walking around Nick’s painting area, careful to not trip over the tarp spread out on the floor.  As she sat down on the black leather cushion, she handled him a bottle. “I picked up something from the Raven.”  Janette had helped her select the bottle when she had gone there before coming over to Nick’s place.  Natalie wanted Nick to know she understood what he really needed right now, and would help him.  She watched him stare at the gift in his hands as he slowly sat on the edge of the black leather couch.

Nick held the bottle and gazed at it, recognizing the sepia-colored label attached to the dark glass body.  This bottle contained pure human blood that met LaCroix’s very high standards.  He quickly glanced back up to her.  She must have brought it over as a way of acknowledging that LaCroix would be spending time at his place.  “Natalie-”

“You need that now,” she interrupted.  

He carefully placed the bottle on the small square table next to his arm.  She was taking his current relationship with LaCroix much better than he had assumed she would.  He wondered how, exactly, LaCroix had managed to explain this to her.  “Nat-”

“Nick, I understand that maybe you couldn’t easily tell me, but I know now.”  It was hard for her to admit that her diet for him needed to change, but the change was necessary, she understood that now.  There had to be a better balance between his needs and what he wanted.

“Natalie, let me explain.”  He saw her trying to interrupt.  “Please.”  LaCroix had been right, he should have told her, he shouldn’t have hidden his relationship for so long.  Natalie deserved better from him than to be deliberately kept in the dark.  He valued her too much to have treated her that way.  He needed to explain that, though he cared for LaCroix, he also cared for her and his desire for a cure - that had not changed.

Natalie knew she should stop and let Nick speak, this concerned him, after all, but she knew if she didn’t get this out now, she would probably lose her nerve and dash off.  So as Nick was talking she quickly uttered, “I’m sorry I didn’t understand and restricted your diet too much, that it was starving you, weakening your control.  I know you need human-”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that it’s actually LaCroix I’m in a relationship with now, not Janette,” Nick slowly said while Natalie was also speaking.  It took a few moments for him to register what she had said. 

Natalie halted mid-sentence, her mind playing back what Nick had just said to her, glaringly pulling out the salient pieces.   _Relationship_.  _Not Janette_.  _LaCroix._   She lurched out of the chair and backed up toward the fireplace, needing some distance to fully process what was going on.  “What?”

Nick remained still, confused that what Natalie had said was completely different than what he had been expecting.  He stood up and faced her as she was moving.  “You just wanted to talk about the diet plan?” 

“Relationship?  He’s,” Natalie thought of the person Nick had covered up with that tarp, the person who had really been under there.  “LaCroix’s your lover?”

Nick took a step to stand next to the coffee table.  “I thought you knew.  I thought you said LaCroix told you.  What were you and he talking about?”

Natalie had now moved even closer to the fireplace.  “LaCroix said my diet was too restrictive and you were starving.  You could attack someone because you were hungry and couldn’t control yourself.”  She gestured with her hands as if to push something away.  “But we can deal with that another time.  Let’s get back to the ‘LaCroix is your lover’ part.  How?  Why?” 

“This situation sounds like I need to procure a bag.”

Nick recognized the sound of LaCroix’s voice coming from the balcony.  He hadn’t even heard or felt his sire arrive.  He snarled as he turned upward, fearfully wondering if LaCroix was thinking of a body bag.  It would not be the first time his maker had dealt with a problem by just killing the mortal involved.  “Why?”

LaCroix flew down to the main level.  “You are correct, I doubt the cat will go back in now that is has been let out.”  Nicholas’ growl and the look of anger on the doctor’s face indicated his quip had not been appreciated.  “I was simply trying to diffuse the escalating situation.  The good doctor looked like she was about to physically express her emotions and was getting too close that object,” he indicated the long wooden staff next to the fireplace with a nod of his head. 

“Why are you here?”

LaCroix turned to face his son.  “I was concerned because I felt your increasing distress, and wanted to make sure you were alright,” he tenderly said, still worried about his child.  He delicately sent comfort through their link. 

“You told me-”

LaCroix glared at the mortal.  “You came to your own conclusions, Doctor.”

Natalie had watched the exchange between LaCroix and Nick.  Her concern for Nick grew as it seemed Nick was calming down, as if he was responding to some force from LaCroix, like he was being manipulated.  “You manipulated me.  What about Nick?  This relationship?  What, exactly, are you doing to him?”  

“What Nicholas and I exactly do intimately with each other,” he retorted, “in bed,” he paused to glance down to where Dr Lambert was standing, “or on the floor,” he grinned as he saw her move away a little, “is actually no concern of yours.”

“LaCroix,” Nick softly spoke, though he faced only at Natalie, “could you give us some time alone?”

LaCroix inclined his head to look at his child.  “If that is your wish, Nicholas.”

Nick nodded, though he kept looking at Natalie while he felt his maker leave.  He could see that she relaxed a little when the elder left, and Nick decided to not tell her LaCroix was simply upstairs in his bedroom.  “Nat, this was probably not the best way to find that out.”  He heard her snort at that obvious statement.  “But I want you to understand, I do love him.  He didn’t manipulate me into that.”

Natalie stared at Nick in shock.  She had never heard him use the word ‘love’ like that, and definitely not when talking about LaCroix.  “When did this start, Nick?” 

“Our relationship started back up not too long ago.  After the concert.  We both enjoy music, especially those pieces.”  He let out a short sigh.  “We attended that concert together.”

Natalie nodded her head.  Of course, the concert Nick happened to get tickets for and clearly Janette had not gone with him.  She was beginning to get a taste of how LaCroix can be subtly manipulating, something Nick has had to endure for centuries.  He should have seen what had happened.  “That’s very convenient you were able to get two tickets to go then.  And that Janette ended up not attending so LaCroix could spend some time with you.”  Natalie carefully watched Nick’s reaction.  He looked confused.  Natalie let out a sad sigh.  It was obvious to her that this was the first time Nick had even considered the idea that LaCroix might have had a hand in getting the tickets and arranging to go.  Natalie felt herself shake slightly.  This whole night; LaCroix’s manipulations; her own mind sinking her into that much guilt and that LaCroix had inched her towards having those thoughts; Nick keeping this from her; Nick deliberately letting her believe he was with Janette; her own desire for him; Nick desiring what? whom?  This clashing together was all too much right now.  “I have to go.”

“Natalie.”  He took a small step toward her.

She backed toward the elevator.  “Nick, please, I need time.”  Nick still looked concerned for her.  “I have to think through this.  All of this.  I can’t do this right now.” 

Nick watched as Natalie entered the lift and slid the metal door closed; he heard when the safety grille was pulled down and when the lift began its descent.  Those sounds seemed to him to be so final.

LaCroix descended down, having delayed his entry until after the metal door had slid shut.  He stood there, near Nicholas, waiting.  He could feel that his child was very overwrought, but he made no move to go closer.  Nicholas had to decide if he wanted to be alone or not.  After a while, Nicholas came to him, a child seeking solace from a parent, and he enveloped his son.  LaCroix held Nicholas while the raw emotions roiled through his son, soothing him mentally and physically. 

Nick wanted his father, was comforted by his steadiness, something to cling to while he felt he was being swept away.  He buried his face into LaCroix’s neck while he mumbled, “She’s not coming back.”

“Yes, she will, Nicholas.”  LaCroix placed one hand on Nicholas’ head, stroking through the dark blond hair, calming him.  He knew Dr Lambert would not leave Nicholas, no matter what had happened.  She had invested too much time and emotion into his son to leave now.  Nicholas just needed to be reassured of that.  “She simply needs some time to process through all this.  She has been with you despite everything that has happened before.”  Once his son’s emotions were calmer, he gently pulled Nicholas off his shoulder and looked at him.  “She will be back, Nicholas.”          

Nick took a step back.  It was always hard for others, mortals or vampires, to understand his relationship with LaCroix, given their propensity to fight with each other.  He hoped Natalie would understand, but he still wished she hadn’t found out, not this way.  Nick knew he couldn’t be mad at his sire for her learning of this; after all, he was the one who had blurted it out.  LaCroix had done as he had asked, his sire hadn’t said anything to her.  LaCroix hadn’t manipulated that situation.  But what Nat had said ….  “The concert tickets.  Us getting back together.  Did you-”

“Nicholas,” LaCroix calmly interrupted before his beloved began to question himself and pull away once again.  “Do not doubt this: you freely chose to accept me again.  You decided that.  This was what you wanted, what you desired.  In light of that, does it really matter how you acquired those tickets?  You were the one who chose to attend.”

No, Nick thought; he had wanted this relationship for so long and he had decided to be with LaCroix again, now that he knew his desire was reciprocated.  It was fortunate those tickets and the concert had given them the opportunity to begin again.  Of course, all this confusion with Nat could have been avoided if LaCroix had just stayed away from her.  He scowled.  LaCroix was meddling in his life again.  “So that’s what you talked to Natalie about, her diet for me?  Wanting her to change it?”

LaCroix shrugged.  “A moot point.  You were not meticulously following it anyway.” 

His sire was correct on that point, Nick thought.  That was another piece of knowledge that he had hidden from Natalie that he should have told her.  She would be irritated when she found out.  If she found out.  Natalie might decide to not return, to just have nothing to do with him anymore. He hid so much from her, for her protection; now he had hidden too much, he doubted she would ever trust him again.  Nick felt the despair creeping back due to those thoughts. 

LaCroix watched Nicholas go over to the piano bench under the staircase and just sit, staring blankly at the keys.  He went over to the side table and picked up the bottle that had been left there.  He recognized the label which showed a dark red sketch of the Eight Immortals in a boat on the way to their banquet, where consumption of magical fruit would let them continue to live.  LaCroix raised an eyebrow; despite her poor choices for Nicholas’ diets, Natalie apparently had discerning taste in her choice of vintages.  Interesting.  He placed the bottle down on the dining table. 

LaCroix glided up to Nicholas, who was still sitting on the piano bench, and placed a hand on his shoulder; he could sense Nicholas was still worked up and agitated.  He had originally thought to spend the remainder of the night and the day with Nicholas, passionately enjoying the hours with him, but after what had occurred in the loft with the doctor, he postponed that plan for later.  He knew that his son would now want to be alone, to brood alone, until he sorted through everything.  “I will depart now; I know how you prefer your solitude.  If you need anything ….” 

As Nick sat at the piano he knew he didn’t want to be alone in this place, with only the brick walls and his melancholy thoughts and music for company.  Then he realized he didn’t have to be.  Nick turned back and upward to look at his father.  He wanted to be with his family.  “Wait.  I don’t want to be alone right now.  I want to be with you, and Janette.”

LaCroix stifled his surprise; this behavior was a change.  “Do you want to go to the Raven?”

“Do you think Janette would mind?”

“No.  It has been too long since we were all amicably together.”  LaCroix looked up at the skylights.  “Shall we?” 

Nick nodded and rose from the piano bench.  It did not take long to arrive at the Raven, where they silently landed on the roof and then went down into the bar area.  Janette had found them immediately and ushered them over to a comfortable table in a corner, where all three of them could be somewhat secluded and together.

Thinking of the bottle that Dr Lambert had brought over to the loft, LaCroix left the table to go over to the bar counter.  For the last few hours, Nicholas had relaxed, opened up, and was currently dancing with Janette.  He sat down on the bar stool, still watching his offspring.  They moved to a rhythm all their own, swaying with each other and not matching the faster movements of the other club dancers around them who were paying attention to the music from the speakers.  LaCroix watched as Nicholas dropped his head lower to rest on Janette’s shoulder, while his hands slowly slid further down her back.  He smiled at the intense vibrations he was picking up from both of them; he knew Janette would enjoy this reunion, but he was pleased to feel that Nicholas was equally delighted.  Turning, he faced the female bartender behind the counter and watched while this substitute Hebe poured out the blood-red libation into glasses so the immortals in the room could drink and continue living.  Once her attention landed on him, he indicated the dark bottle he wanted, took three clear wine glasses, then made his way back to the table.  He placed all his collected items on the tabletop, sat down, and waited while his children finished their dance.      

Janette ended their dance and drew Nicolas back to their table.  LaCroix, she could see, had already gotten glasses and a bottle.  Meeting her maker’s ice blue eyes with her own bright blue ones, she recognized the look and his intent.  Nicolas had pulled out the chair for her and she sat down and reached for the bottle while he sat down next to her.  She smiled as she saw the label which showed an image of a boat with eight individuals going to their feast, a batch number underneath, and above it all the name of the company: _The Peaches of Immortality_.  A conceit of hers, this was the company LaCroix owned, and she always made sure to keep several of these pricey bottles in stock at all times.  Janette removed the foil covering over the cork, then the cork itself.  As the smell of the vintage wafted out, she turned to see Nicolas’ reaction.  His slate blue eyes had quickly flashed their golden hue before returning back.  Pouring out the liquid into each glass, she handed one first to LaCroix and then one to Nicolas. 

Nick accepted the wine glass, still tantalized by the smell of the undiluted human blood he detected once the bottle had been opened.  The smell was enticing.  Tempting.  He closed his eyes as he put the glass down on the table.

“Drink, Nicolas.”     

“It is what you need, Nicholas.”

“The blood-,” Nick began to say.

“Voluntarily donated,” LaCroix assured his reluctant son.  He could feel Nicholas was teetering. 

Nick shook his head.  “No.”

“Just a little, Nicolas,” Janette coaxed.

Nick opened his eyes and stood up.  “I can’t.”  He looked at them, saw their concern.  Just too much of his life had been unwound this evening to have more of his life decisions undone.  “I have to go.”  He turned to leave when he was stopped by LaCroix’s hand on his arm.  He gazed at his sire.  “I’m trying to find a balance between all of this.  I love you, but I need to figure this out for myself.”  LaCroix released him and Nick slid through the club patrons toward the front doors.

LaCroix let his son go.  It was a lot to go through in one night: part of Nicholas’ mortal world was upended and his interactions in the vampire world grew to fill the void.  But LaCroix was encouraged.  Nicholas was acknowledging that he wanted some parts of his vampire life he had shared with them.  This meant his son knew he would need to strike a balance between these worlds that he could live with and have parts of both.  LaCroix sat back down in his chair.  This was an improvement over Nicholas’ near-complete rejection and suppression of his vampire nature in the past.  He would wait and see what decision his son would make.       

Nick had flown quickly through the sky to arrive back at his loft.  He had enjoyed his time with Janette and LaCroix, how they could be together, though it brought up many memories of the other activates they had done together that he didn’t want to think of.  Those thoughts, plus the fact that he really hadn’t drunk enough tonight, reminded him of his hunger.  Nick thought of the glass of blood Janette had offered him while he got an empty glass off his bookcase.  He wasn’t going to be baited or pressured into drinking human blood.  Nick opened the refrigerator to retrieve his bovine blood, completely bypassing the protein shakes he still had from Natalie’s last batch.  He poured out the animal blood into the glass and drank.  The blood addressed the need, but barely.  Not even barely, if he wanted to be honest with himself. 

Nick drank some more, knowing Natalie’s concern she voiced tonight was probably valid.  Drinking small amounts of animal blood always left him weak, and the protein shakes even more so.  Getting by on what he determined was the minimal amounts, at this point, was leaving him too weak to fight off the vampire when it did emerge to attack.  Though he made sure to not be in situations that would easily trigger that outcome, it had been happening more often of late.  He was fortunate LaCroix had been able to stop him when he almost attacked mortals, but his sire couldn’t always be there and he knew he could not stop himself.  Nick put the green bottle and wine glass down on the dining table as he sat in the chair.  He stared at the dark bottle Nat had brought him, remembering how the blood in the other bottle at the Raven had smelled.  He did need balance, he thought, one better than what he currently had.  Natalie’s conversation with LaCroix had apparently led her to the same conclusion: he did need something stronger in his diet.  He needed human blood.  Some human blood, Nick corrected himself.  Too much human blood would completely awaken the vampire drive to feed, but just a little would give him the strength he would need to keep the vampire controlled.  LaCroix would want him to be on a completely human blood diet, but he knew Natalie would not want that.  He would trust Natalie.  He reached for her bottle.  Just a little bit.

As Nick put his hands on the bottom of the bottle and gently lifted it off the table, he felt the tips of his fangs descend slightly.  He told himself that he had made this decision, not the vampire, so didn’t stop.  Still keeping hold of the base, Nick slid his right palm slowly up along the slick glass body of the bottle.  Eventually, his hand reached the curve and he followed along as it led gracefully up to the neck.  Moving just a little bit higher, Nick’s fingers quickly undid the foil covering, letting the thin wrapper flutter down to the table surface.  Soon, his hand was grasped around the cork, gently wiggling it outward.  Once removed from the opening, the cork was tossed aside and landed on the floor, making soft patter sounds as it bounced, finally becoming silent when it rolled under the stove and stopped.  Nick closed his eyes, raised the bottle lip to his mouth, tipped his head back, and deeply drank.  He disconnected from the bottle and put it on the table.  He issued a contented rumble as he opened his eyes, seeing his loft space through a vampire’s colored haze.  The blood was wonderful, LaCroix always expecting high quality in his products and this bottle’s contents did not disappoint.  He was about to take another sip but stopped himself.  He was only going to have enough to feel more in control.  He scrunched his eyes closed until he felt them return back to their blue color.  He felt calmer and more relaxed, the human blood providing him what he really did need, something that animal blood didn’t and the protein shakes couldn’t.  He opened his eyes and scanned around the floor, looking for the cork until he remembered that it was now under his appliance.  He’d get it during the next cleaning; in the meantime, the cork could join the few others that were no doubt under there as well.  Nick got up and went to one of the wooden kitchen drawers and pulled out a new cork, ramming it into the bottle’s mouth to close it.  He went over to the refrigerator, opened the door, and placed the bottle on its own shelf, far away from the bovine blood and Nat’s shakes.                     


	7. Chapter 7

LaCroix was quietly humming an old tune as he entered Nicholas’ loft.  It had been a several days since Dr Lambert had last been there, and the first time he had been over since that night.  His hands were filthy and greasy, but he knew that grime would wash off.  What would not come off so easily was all the lubricant he had generously applied on the various moving parts of the doors and freight elevator.  His practice run had been very pleasant, compared to the grinding, screeching commotion the lift had been making.  Nicholas was still upstairs, sleeping in since tonight was his night off.  After leaving the Raven his son had decided to not stay isolated, and had been spending time with him at his penthouse and at the club, though Nicholas would not drink human blood when he was over.  Dr Lambert had taken her time and had selected tonight to come over and talk with Nicholas, which had greatly eased the tension in his child these last couple of days.  She was also the reason he had come over early in the evening to visit instead of later; he didn’t want to be involved in that discussion.

LaCroix finished cleaning his hands in the kitchen sink, put his jacket back on, and then went over to the bookcase where Nicholas kept his glasses.  Selecting his white coffee mug with the black animal images on it, he opened the refrigerator, steeling himself for the experience of drinking bovine blood, since that was what Nicholas typically had stocked.  He was surprised to see the bottle of human blood Natalie had brought over was there and less than half full; Nicholas had not told him he was drinking it.  So his son would drink what she had provided.  Well, he thought, Nicholas might not be drinking much, but at least he was drinking.  LaCroix decided to leave the bottle; better for Nicholas to drink it than take it for himself.  As he sipped the bovine blood he had poured into his mug, he thought of the sacrifice he was making for his child because the animal blood tasted horrendously vile. 

He felt Nicholas stirring, and made sure his son knew he was there through their link.  LaCroix closed his eyes as he felt the crashing wave of intense passion his beloved had sent back to him.  As he was waiting for Nicholas to come down, he detected a heartbeat, then the freight elevator bringing up the mortal.  LaCroix grinned as the door opened, Nicholas’ security still left a lot to be desired, but the elevator was nicely quieter.  He realized his son was still very distracted by his presence, so decided to not mention the new arrival.  Perhaps the shock of another unexpected visitor would finally convince Nicholas to rethink his protection measures.

Schanke had been thinking about Nick and Natalie on his ride up to Nick’s loft level, wondering if he should say anything to his partner.  Natalie seemed to be avoiding Nick recently and he wondered if anything had happened; he had thought they were getting along well.  Myra thought there might be another woman and that Natalie had found out.  If that was correct, maybe Knight really wasn’t ready to settle down; but to pass up on Natalie was foolish, he thought.

Schanke slid the metal door aside to enter Nick’s loft.  He had actually come over to talk about the Duncan case and get his partner updated.  He suppressed a yawn.  He had worked the day shift and was looking forward to getting home and resting.  He was surprised that the door was so quiet, and further surprised when he walked in to see an older gentleman in Nick’s kitchen area, standing next to the dining table and drinking from a coffee mug.  The man smiled at him, and seemed at ease, like he belonged there.  Don walked cautiously over, the folder full of papers securely held in his left hand as he reached out with his right to greet the stranger.  “Hello.”

LaCroix looked at the mortal, and simply inclined his head.  “Good evening, Detective Schanke.”    

Don dropped his extended hand in shock, wondering how this man knew him.  “I’m sorry, have we-”

“Met?  Surely you would remember if we had.  However, Nicholas has spoken of you a number of times.”

“Oh, that does explain it then.”  Schanke walked into the kitchen and leaned against the corner between the sink and the stove, a nagging feeling in his mind that he did know his man.  He put his file down on the counter.  “And you are?”

“One of Nicholas’ oldest friends.”  LaCroix sat in the dining chair furthest from the mortal, continuing to drink from his mug.  He let his mental link resonate with passionate desire.  “He will be down soon.”

Schanke watched the man drink from the white coffee mug, identifying it as the one that had been dropped off on Nick’s desk.  Finally, recognition set in: he knew the voice of this man, and mentally kicked himself for not recognizing it sooner.  This was the Nightcrawler, from the radio show Nick always listened to.  Don thought it strange that Nick never mentioned that the Nightcrawler was a friend of his.  The silence between them was broken when he heard Nick call down from upstairs.

“I know you’re there, Lucien.  I’ll be down in a moment.”

“I was beginning to think you had forgotten me, Nicholas,” LaCroix called up to his beloved.

Nick walked down the main staircase and smiled as he saw his sire sitting at the table, drinking.  “You know I never could,” he passionately replied.  Then he registered a mortal heartbeat.  Looking into the kitchen area he was shocked to see Schanke.  He had been so aware and focused on LaCroix he hadn’t even registered that someone else was there.

“Hi, Schanke,” he awkwardly greeted, “I didn’t hear you come in.”  Nick figured there must be a very good reason his partner dropped by, though he found himself desperately wishing Schanke had just called instead.

“The elevator was quieter.  You must have had the parts oiled.”

Nick frowned in confusion.  “No.”

LaCroix stood up from his chair, placing the mug on the table.  “I handled that.  Those sounds were really quite annoying every time I had to hear them.  Really, Nicholas, you should keep up better with your home maintenance.” 

Nick glanced back at his maker, hoping LaCroix was picking up on his irritation at not being warned Schanke was there.

LaCroix grinned.  “Aren’t you going to properly introduce me?”

Nick struggled to suppress exactly what he wanted to say to his sire at the moment.  Turning to Schanke and gesturing, he said, “LaCroix, this is Detective Don Schanke.  Don, this is Lucien LaCroix.”

“We’ve met before,” LaCroix amusingly stated.

Giving an apologetic look to Schanke, Nick turned to face LaCroix.  For whatever reason, his sire felt no compulsion to leave.  “What brought you here this evening?” 

LaCroix took out an item from his jacket pocket and gently placed it on the table.  “I assumed you would want him back.”

Schanke’s eyes widened when he recognized what was sitting on the table.  It was Wolfie, the stuffed toy animal that had come with the coffee mug.

“Apparently the little guy fell behind the table when we both collided into it.  You do recall doing that, don’t you?”  LaCroix noticed that Nicholas was trying very hard to suppress his smile so the mortal wouldn’t see it.  However, the thoughts he was getting from their link indicated Nicholas did remember that event, quite clearly, and quite fondly.

Schanke was staring at Nick.  These were all the gifts from Nick’s secret admirer.  And LaCroix seemed real intent on Nick.  That meant LaCroix was Nick’s ….

Nick glanced at Schanke.  He could almost see Schanke’s brain putting the pieces together.  “LaCroix, could you give Schanke and me a moment.”

Never taking his eyes of his son he said, “It appears I am, once again, grounded to your bedroom.  This is becoming quite a habit with you, Nicholas.”  Indulging his son once again with these visiting mortals, he quickly flew upstairs.

Schanke had been staring at LaCroix.  That meant Nick also liked … and an older man at that … and he was the Nightcrawler.  No wonder Nick listened to the show constantly, he thought.  Don decided he wouldn’t complain about Nick listening to the radio broadcast ever again.  Then the man was just gone.  He looked quizzically at Nick, about to ask what had happened.

Nick saw the dawning recognition in Schanke.  He focused on the eyes, willing Schanke to listen to him, ordering his partner to forget about LaCroix, their conversation, and any relationship he thought might be there.  He maintained eye contact until he saw Schanke blink confusingly a few times. 

Don shook his head; it felt like his mind had shut off for a moment.  He yawned again.  He was getting too tired working in the day on this case.  “Sorry, Nick.  I just zoned out there for a moment.”

“That’s okay, Schanke.  You look tired.  You should be at home.”

“Yeah, well, that’s where I’m heading off to.  I just dropped by to give you these updates.  I know how you work even on your nights off and I figured you’d want these.”  He reached behind to pick up the manila folder off the counter and hand it all to his partner.  He watched Nick flip through the pages.  “The important part is that the committee picked Duncan’s replacement today: Adam Miller.”  Nick looked up at him.  “Yeah.  Miller.  You know what that means.”

Nick closed the file and gave an exacerbated sigh.  “You just don’t like him.”

“Because he wacked Duncan.”

“There’s no evidence.”

“He had more motive than anyone else,” Schanke pointed out.

“Only if Miller knew he was guaranteed to get the job.  Otherwise, he was taking a gamble.”

“Don’t they all?  And killers always assume they won’t get caught.”

Nick gave a small shake to his head.  “Go home, Schanke.  Get some rest.  I’ll look over these.”

Don stifled another yawn as he nodded his head.  He really should get home.  He turned and headed to the lift door. 

Nick stood by the metal door, sliding the barrier to the side to close it so Schanke could leave.  Once the lift began going down he felt a presence next to him. 

“You should not have to hide your feelings and affections from those who care about you.”  Hiding information was what caused his son’s last confrontation with Natalie.  Hiding his desire is what Nicholas had done to him for the last several decades.  “They simply want you to be happy, Nicholas.  To be happy with someone.” 

“He doesn’t need to know.”

LaCroix sighed.  “Did you decide this for Don because you can easily hypnotize him into forgetting?”

Nick turned away from his maker and headed toward the couch.  “He wouldn’t understand.”

“You hardly gave him a chance, nor even asked if he could.”  Nicholas did not respond.  “Are you not always decrying the lack of transparency on my part in our past dealings, yet look at what you are doing.  It is of importance to make sure these mortals forget about vampires.  It is quite another to take away only their opinion of you as a person.  Above all else, the detective seems to have a very good opinion of you and has been understanding and tolerant of your unique differences thus far.  That he remembers, anyway.”

“It’s over.  He’s been hypnotized into forgetting.”  Nick felt LaCroix’s disapproval through their link.  “It’s been done.”

LaCroix nodded his head.  “So it would appear.”  He watched Nicholas for a while, sitting tensely on the couch.  “Why don’t you get something to drink before Dr Lambert comes over.  Talking with her will be stressful enough, and you will not be able to hypnotize her.”  With that parting suggestion, he exited through the skylight before Nicholas could respond.

LaCroix had been right, he had needed to feed before Nat came over that evening.  Nick was relieved when she had begun talking with him again, but she wanted to talk about everything that had come up.  He had reluctantly agreed.  At least she was willing to still be with him and come over.  Nick had just finished a bottle of bovine blood when he saw the freight elevator door slide open.  He went over to greet Natalie as she came in.  “Hello, Natalie.”

“Hi.”

“Thanks for coming over.”

Natalie looked at Nick; he really did look stressed out.  She glanced into the kitchen area, drawn by a familiar smell that was actually mostly foreign to this place: the smell of brewing coffee.  “You made a pot of coffee?”

Nick nodded his head.  “I know you like it, and you left that bag of grounds a while ago. So ….”  He smiled at her.  “Would you like a cup?” 

Natalie indicated that she would and waited while Nick went to pour a cup.  She accepted the coffee mug from Nick, idly finding it ironic that the last time she had seen this white mug it had been filled with some of Nick’s blood for his painting; now it was filled with coffee.  She took a sip.  She tasted only coffee.  She sat down on the leather couch at the end closest to the entertainment center.  Natalie watched Nick pace around for a while, nervous.  She grabbed his arm during his last pass near her.  She saw the look in his eyes: captured.  “Nick, it’s okay.  Sit down.  Let’s talk.”  She let him go and Nick sank into the couch at the opposite end from where she was.  She decided to start on an easy topic.  “So, that painting you were working on.  It was for LaCroix, wasn’t it?”

Nick stared at the fireplace while he nodded his head. 

Natalie prompted some more.  “Is that why you didn’t paint it with cow’s blood?”

Nick turned to look at her.  “I was taught the technique with animal blood, but actually I had switched centuries while ago to using my own.” 

“Why?”

Nick shrugged, then looked over to the painting area with its empty easel.  “You know what they say: a part of your art is made with your blood and tears.”  He turned back to her.  “I wanted to make something beautiful from this,” he pointed to himself, “from this destructive vampire.  To create an expression of life out of something whose function was to take life.  That seemed the best way.”

“You told Schanke you used cow’s blood.” 

“It was a convenient way to explain why I have bottled animal blood.  I can’t really tell mortals it was because that was my dinner.”

“Well, at least LaCroix doesn’t have to smell animal blood in the paints.  I’m sure he appreciates that.” 

Nick smiled.  “LaCroix always likes my paintings, especially since I use my blood in the paint.”  He saw Natalie’s confused expression.  “There are some things I never told you about the relationship between the maker and their offspring.  LaCroix can feel my blood in the paint.”

“Really?” 

“It’s one way that you can find your offspring.  The maker can feel the blood.  LaCroix described it once like a tugging or pulling.  So even if I’m not around, it's like a part of me is still there, in the painting.”

Natalie looked around the loft.  There was a lot of artwork around, and she was sure a good amount of the paintings were his.  “You use your blood in all your paintings?”

“Not all of them, but most of them.”

“So … since there is vampire blood in there, what happens if the painting is exposed to sunlight?”

“The painting burns up.  That’s why the work that does have blood in it is kept away from the windows and sunlight.  I’ve lost a number of pieces over the centuries because someone moved them into the light, not realizing what would happen.” 

Natalie took another sip of her cooling coffee.  She could tell Nick was calming down; at least he didn’t look like he was going to pace around the loft again.  Time to ease into their next point of discussion.  “Nick, about your diet,” she saw him stiffen at her words.  “I am sorry I made it too restrictive.  It was,” she forcefully stated, having noticed he was beginning to object.  “And the vampire is fighting back.  Nick, I never got a chance to tell you, but your UV test showed regression, your blood burning at a lower exposure.  What I was doing was making you worse.”

“Ah, about that.  That might not have been a pure sample of blood.”

Natalie looked critically at Nick.  “What do you mean?”

“LaCroix and I had … I thought there was enough time to clear out ….”  Nick saw Natalie’s furrowed brows.  “The sample was a mix of mine and LaCroix’s blood.”  Before she had a chance to really think about the implications of that Nick launched immediately into his apology.  “And about the diet, I haven’t really been following it as closely as I should have.” 

“You said you were following it, Nick.”

“I tried really hard, Nat, I did.  It’s just-”

“When I asked if you were drinking extra blood-”

“I know, and on that night I didn’t.  But I really needed more.”  He needed to stop holding back.  Natalie had said she wanted to know; she didn’t want him hiding anymore.  “LaCroix’s blood,” Nick hesitated, “blood is exchanged when we-”

“Got it, Nick.”  She knew, when it came to vampires, blood was always involved somehow.  She assumed that’s why Nick was so reluctant to try and become involved with a mortal.  For him, love was first a kiss, then the lethal bite that followed.  She figured the same was true of vampire relations, only they didn’t die from the bite and the blood loss.  “We’ll talk about that next.” 

“Right, so LaCroix’s blood is healing me.  Completely.  I felt stronger.  I realized how weakening myself also weakened my ability to fight off the vampire.  But to be strong enough I need to feed on blood, not substitutes.  Preferably human blood.  But instead I drank only minimal amounts of animal blood, so I was … I was hungry, Nat.”  He rubbed his fingers across his lips.  “I still am.”

Natalie understood.  She got up and went to Nick’s refrigerator, hoping that bottle she brought over was still around.  Opening up the appliance, she found it, half-filled.  So Nick had been drinking some.  She grabbed it and a wine glass off his bookcase.  Natalie went back to the couch, partially filled the glass, and handed him the glass while she put the bottle down on the coffee table and sat down herself. 

“Nat?  I still want to find a cure.  That hasn’t changed.”

“I still want that too, Nick.  We also need to find a new balance to your diet.  I still think we should be at the minimum blood intake, but we’ll have to find out, together, what that minimum really safely is.  But you need human blood, Nick; it can’t be all cow blood.”  At least for now, she thought; she would find a viable substitute.

Nick looked at the drink Nat offered him.  “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure you need this.  Plus, the blood is donated, so no one died to get this.  No loss of life.”  And with Nick stronger, there was less chance he would accidentally attack and kill someone, Natalie thought.  Drinking donated human blood was preferable when compared to Nick killing and the guilt he would endure afterward.  And she had decided that she would do whatever it took to keep Nick from killing.  She didn’t want that guilt of knowing she could have prevented that from happening, but didn’t.  Natalie watched as he drank while she sipped her coffee.  She thought of the next topic they needed to discuss, and the one she was most anxious about.  It had taken her a while to get past her own feelings and desire for a relationship with Nick and think only of Nick.  Natalie had realized in the last few days of contemplation that she had only ever known Nick when his one goal, his one desire was to be mortal.  She realized later that Nick was over seven hundred years old, and that he probably had more than one desire he wanted in that time.  Desires different than what the vampire part of him wanted, and apparently one of those desires was for LaCroix.  She cared for Nick and wanted to make sure he really was alright in this relationship; she knew she was rather protective of him.  Natalie waited until Nick had drunk most of the blood in his glass.  “Nick, we need to talk about this relationship with LaCroix.”  She put the coffee mug on the small side table next to her.

Nick put his wine glass down on the square side table next to the couch.  How could he explain so that Natalie understood that he loved LaCroix.  And Janette.  And her.  And that he didn’t want to give up on any of those relationships.  He didn’t know. 

Natalie scooted across the leather cushion to get closer to where Nick was sitting.  “Why?  Why him, Nick?  Have you forgotten everything you’ve told me about him?”


	8. Chapter 8

“I know LaCroix’s been difficult in the past.  I haven’t forgotten that.  But he did what he thought I needed to….”  Nick looked at Natalie.  “LaCroix has a very particular idea of how we should live our lives and I don’t agree with that.  But other things I do agree with.”

“But, Nick-”

“I can’t ignore him completely, Nat.  He’s still a part of who I am.  We have history and not all of it was bad.  A lot was, but not everything.  And this relationship has nothing to do with me killing anyone.”  Nick saw that Natalie was still confused.  “I told you that mine and LaCroix’s actual relationship was complicated; that he’s a brother, or a father, to me.”

“Yeah, but you skipped over a very important part of that relationship, Nick.  You left out that you are in love with him.  And don’t tell me that an obscure archaic meaning for ‘brother’ was actually ‘lover’ or something like that, so that you did, in a round-about way, tell me.  I’m not buying that.”

Nick decided to not correct her on that point.  She didn’t really want a history lesson right now.

Natalie still couldn’t really believe what he was saying.  Nick had always been so clear about what he thought of LaCroix, this just seemed too unbelievable, too different.  She inched closer to him.  She needed to make sure LaCroix really wasn’t manipulating him into this.  “Why ….”

“Him?” Nick said, finishing her question.  “You don’t know all the sides to LaCroix.”  He saw her reaction, so many expressions flashed quickly across her face; some even repeated.  “Granted, I didn’t tell you, but he has passion.  It's just how he uses it.  He has a cold side, but also a warmer one.”  He paused to think.  “In many respects, I’m his opposite, his complement.  Sometimes that brings us together, other times it forces us apart.  When we’re apart, it’s like we’re a little unstable, become more extreme.  When we’re together,” Nick shrugged as he looked away, “it’s not as bad.  We’re more balanced.  More than usual, anyway.”  He glanced back at her.  He knew this would be hard for her to understand, and he didn’t want her to think he didn’t care for anyone else.  He reached over and gently put his hand on hers.  “What I feel for LaCroix doesn’t change the love I feel for others like Janette and ….”  After making contact with her eyes, he quickly let go of her hand and looked away.

Natalie had listened to Nick and had felt his hand upon hers.  So he did care for her.  And Janette.  And LaCroix.  The fact that he grouped her along with his oldest lovers confirmed that Nick did consider her more than just a really close, good friend.  “So you’ve always had this on-off relationship with him?”  Natalie couldn’t believe she actually felt jealous of LaCroix being able to have a relationship with Nick. 

“Well, the last time we separated I thought it was completely over.  Probably another reason why I never told you about that part of me.  I thought it was a relationship I could never have again with him.” 

“When did that happen?”  She watched as Nick fidgeted.

“1941.”

She was still getting used to the vast timescale Nick worked on.  That was a long time ago, but for Nick, it wasn’t.  “What happened?”  Natalie watched as he quickly got up from the couch, moving away from her.  “Nick, I’m sorry.”  She chastised herself for not realizing they probably had had a painful break-up and that Nick might not want to talk about that.  “I shouldn’t have asked.”  She watched him pace a while, then he sat back down.

Nick closed his eyes as the painful memory came back.  “We got into a fight.”  Nick remembered that the argument had grown until, like a breached dam, every unresolved problem between them had poured out.  _Bringing_ _Daniel across_.  _Killing_.  _His diet_.  _His quest_.  _Fleur_.  _What LaCroix really wanted from him_.  “LaCroix said he wasn’t interested in me, hadn’t really been for a long while.”  He had struck first, but LaCroix had ended the fight.  “Afterward, I left.”  Nick opened his eyes.  “I left the house and I left him.”  He turned to Natalie, empathy gracing her face.  “It wasn’t until recently I found out LaCroix really did want me; he hadn’t meant what he had said in anger.  He still wanted me.”  He turned to contemplate the metal elevator door.  “Despite everything that had happened between us.” 

Natalie could see he was still upset, but also that he did care deeply about LaCroix, and had made the decision to do so.  “So how did this relationship get started, Nick?  How did you know?  When did you figure that out?” 

Nick turned and smiled at Natalie.  “Actually, I first became aware of it because of a fight.”

 _1228 Paris, France_ < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < < <

“I thought as a mortal you had been trained at least basically to fight.  And apparently not at all in how to fall to avoid injuring yourself.  This is all very pathetic, Nicholas.” 

Nick picked himself off the ground, and not for the first time that night.  He was sore and bruised, and not healing quite as fast as he had earlier in their practice. 

“You must learn to use all your new abilities to fight, Nicholas.”  LaCroix watched as his golden-eyed offspring got up slowly from the ground.  LaCroix kicked him back down, shaking his head; Nicholas should have been able to perceive that coming, and there had been enough time to avoid the impact.  “You need to more observant and react faster.”

“I am already faster, and stronger, than a mortal.” Nick groaned from the ground.    

LaCroix grabbed Nicholas, hauled him up, and tossed him a few feet away.  He sighed heavily; Nicholas still was not learning how to properly fall, how to feel his body moving through the air and control his descent.  “You will not always be grappling against a single struggling mortal.  You will fight mobs of mortals.  You will fight your own kind.  You might even have to protect and defend me.  You need to be better.”  He went after Nicholas, who dodged him and scuttled away.  “An improvement.  But you cannot always rely on retreat.”

Nick rose into a hunched-over position, having decided to try to run and slam into LaCroix.  Perhaps the element of surprise would startle the older vampire and give him a chance to knock his maker over. 

LaCroix saw the advancing body of his opponent and simply rose straight up into the air.  He let Nicholas run underneath him, then alighted behind the younger one and pushed his back, continuing the initial momentum which sent his son crashing to the ground again.  “An interesting attempt,” he mocked.  “However, you are still thinking like a mortal, Nicholas.  You are no longer constrained by their limitations.  Remember,” he said as he spread out his arms to indicate the whole area, “we can move in all directions.”

Nick quickly pivoted and pounced at LaCroix, hurling his entire body at his maker’s head.  But his sire was faster and caught him while he was airborne and tossed him down.  Nick growled in frustration, rose, and rushed at him again.  Again, LaCroix tossed him easily away.  Nick laid there on the rough ground, exhausted.

“Nicholas, you cannot stay still before your attacker.  No one will end their fight simply because you are not moving.  As long as you are not dead, you will be a continuous threat to your opponent.  Therefore, you need to be in motion, or relocating to a sheltered place to plan your next move.”

Nick roared and staggered upright to face LaCroix again.  It was getting harder to focus on anything but the vampire’s drive of basic survival.  His maker wanted him to plan, but he couldn’t even think anymore.         

LaCroix walked over to his son; it was clear this child would be a fighter and would not easily back down.  Nicholas would be a survivor; a necessary trait to have to against the constant passing of time that eroded too many other vampires and the hunters that constantly tried to end them.  But for now, Nicholas needed to learn how to survive physical attacks, and LaCroix taught these lessons as he had taught his mortal troops and how he himself had been taught: a real opponent with real attacks ending with real consequences for failure.  “You need to improve.  You need to think, and to plan, quicker.  You need to anticipate your opponent’s next move, not what they are doing at the current moment.  You need to be prepared and adjust to fighting opponents with different fighting techniques that what you have learned.”  He quickly grabbed and tossed Nicholas again.  “And you need to practice rebalancing yourself midair.” 

Nick hit the ground tried to move away, but the last injury was too much.  He laid there, trying to not shift his body, which would cause more pain.  He determined it would be awhile before he was healed enough to even think of trying another attack.  Nick felt the vampire retreat and his fangs retract.  Through his blue eyes, he watched his master advance toward him. 

“I know this hurts, but I would rather you feel and learn from this than be killed.”  LaCroix looked down at the young vampire.  His concern and affection for Nicholas mixed with the hurt his son was experiencing and projecting through their link.  That would need to be corrected.  “I feel your pain, _mon fils_.  We are connected, I will always feel you.  I do not want you to be like this.  I do not want you broken, Nicholas; I want you to be strong.”  LaCroix knelt down beside his son.  “Your next lesson: vampire blood can assist in healing.  Blood from your family line is better.  Blood from your maker is the most beneficial.”  He exposed his wrist and thrust it at Nicholas, his emotions saturated the blood and he sent reassurance vibrating through their link.  “ _Boisson_ , Nicholas,” he ordered.

Nick gazed at it.  He reached over and grasped his makers’ forearm, dragging it slowly toward his mouth.  As he had learned to do as a mortal to acknowledge something precious and worth defending, he kissed the wrist.  Then, as he had learned to do as a vampire, he dropped his fangs and sank them into the skin, piercing a blood vessel and eagerly drew out the precious blood.  It occurred to him that this was the first time he had tasted LaCroix’s blood since the night he had been brought across.  Nick felt himself instinctually responding, a deep need driving him, one more insistent than the need to feed when he was hunting mortals.  He gave himself completely over to this surfaced desire, which was both unfamiliar and familiar at the same time, loosing himself and his control. 

LaCroix felt the bite and looked down at his child.  Nicholas’ eyes were crimson where before they had been blue.  He felt the link with this child vibrate as intensely and passionately as he had felt the vibration when Nicholas was with Janette.  His son quickly released his wrist, then LaCroix felt pressure on his chest.  The elder allowed himself to be pushed to the ground with Nicholas on top of him.  His new fledgling pushed his head to one side and bit fiercely into his neck.  LaCroix waited, allowing the younger one to feed, then responded by piercing his protégé’s neck.  The honeyed ambrosia he drank spoke it all: Nicholas did feel love and attraction to him, as intense as his own desire.  Hidden just below the surface, unrecognized, but apparently there. 

LaCroix laid there on the ground, allowing Nicholas to remain where he was, giving and taking with each other in an endless cycle.  LaCroix felt the moment when Nicholas was mentally overloaded, felt when the younger vampire shuddered, and then when his son lost consciousness.  LaCroix retracted his fangs, then pulled Nicholas’ out of his neck. 

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > _Present Day_

“I found in him something I had felt drawn to in Janette and something different, something more.  When LaCroix brought me across, when he was biting me and then later when I bit him, a bond was formed, more than just between maker and offspring.  We were both caught in it.  Need.  Desire.  Love.  It was all there, but an undercurrent.  I didn’t realize that until later.”

“When you bit him the second time.”

Nick nodded his head.  “Then I found it.  What had, in large part, drawn me back to him when I was coming across.  One of the reasons I came back.  I returned to him.  Not just back to your maker, or back to life.  Back to him.  I knew what he felt when I bit him.”

“So there’s more than just exchanging blood when you bite?” 

“Yes, you exchange your feelings, your desires.  It’s hard to completely describe.  You share yourself and experience your partner.  With most,” he looked sheepishly at Natalie, “encounters with other vampires, I can limit what memories and parts of me are shared.  With LaCroix, the sharing is more intense; more complete; more total.  Eventually you merge, and it feels like you have no beginning or end.  You’re gone, and yet you never left.” 

Natalie had to admit, what Nick was describing was fascinating.  “Sounds overwhelming.”

“Yes, it can be.”

Natalie knew LaCroix was very possessive, and with this partial reconciliation between them, she knew he would not want to leave Nick’s side.  “LaCroix must be glad that you have let him back into your life.”  She warily glanced up through the skylights.  “He’s probably always around when you’re not at work.  Is he here tonight?”  She didn’t want to think of possibly having to interact with LaCroix every time she came over to be with Nick. 

Nick shook his head.  “No.  LaCroix’s giving me some space, trying to not smother me.  A few times he’s asked, but mostly he’s letting me choose when we spend time together.  Sometimes it’s just to talk or play chess.  We have a lot of mending to do between us.” 

Natalie was actually glad to hear that Nick still had his space; she still didn’t think spending lots of time with LaCroix was good for anybody.  She let the silence between them drag out for a little while before asking some more questions since Nick was opening up tonight.  “So how does his blood get directly into your blood vessels?  Shouldn’t your system digest the blood and break it down like the other blood you drink?” 

Nick shrugged.  “I can only describe what it feels like, but it’s like it immediately moves into my body, directly into my blood.  I feel it flow through me, though after a while it does fade away.”

So the vampire blood completely bypasses digestion, Natalie thought, her inquisitive mind tinkering with the new information.  She had seen Nick’s blood, when separated, reach out and flow immediately back together, even moving against gravity.  Perhaps it was like that: the vampire blood moved out, or was pulled out, of the digestive system to combine directly with the similar blood in the veins.  Natalie idly wondered if she could get some of LaCroix’s blood to test out how fast his and Nick’s blood would rejoin and how they mixed together.  She saw Nick staring at her.  “Sorry, I was thinking about how there are so many impressions you get via the blood.” 

“Yes.  Some blood holds more; others, like animal, holds less.  Each is unique, like a fingerprint,” he began, “or their taste,” he quietly added, thinking of LaCroix’s tempting blood. 

“Blood has a taste?”  Natalie was very familiar with Nick’s complaining of the bad taste to her shakes and the small amounts of human food and tea she had managed to get him to try.  She also remembered him saying once that the taste of animal and human blood was different, but had never elaborated. 

“Well, everyone’s unique.”  Nick could tell Natalie wanted to know more, and wouldn’t be put off now that her curiosity had been tempted.  He sighed.  At least this part of being a vampire he didn’t mind sharing since it did not necessarily have anything to do with killing.  “Everyone has a different flavor.  Mortals and vampires.”

Natalie was fascinated by that and asked without thinking, “What does LaCroix’s blood taste like?”  She never knew a vampire could blush like that.

“Nat, that’s a very personal question.  You just don’t ask that.” 

“Why not?  You can tell me everyone tastes different, but don’t want to say what they actually taste like?”

“You just don’t tell.  It’s like, vampire etiquette.  Besides, every vampire knows there is a taste, but no one talks about it.”   

“Really?” Natalie incredulously asked. 

“Yes.  Nat, it was centuries before LaCroix even told me what mine tasted like.”  Nick thought again of his sire’s blood, that sweet taste he had never been able to identify until recently.  That unmatched savor had made LaCroix even more enticing than he already was. 

“So what do you taste like, unless you’re not allowed to tell me.”  Nick looked very embarrassed and she was prepared for him to not answer, so was surprised when he did.

“LaCroix says my blood tastes like mead; like honey-wine.”

“Why didn’t you know that?  You’ve drunk some of your own blood, right?”

“Yes, but you just can’t taste yourself.  And don’t ask, I don’t know why.”

“Why couldn’t you smell it?  You tell me you can smell blood, like when I see you react at the crime scenes.”

“We can’t smell vampire blood.”

“But you can smell mortal blood.”  She saw Nick quickly nod.  “And each has a slightly different aroma, beyond just the smell of the blood itself?”  Again, Nick nodded at her.  Natalie felt her heart rate increase.  “Can you smell my blood?”

“Yes,” Nick softly said.  “Though the closer you are to me, the easier it is to detect through your skin.” 

Natalie felt like she was pulled in, that she couldn’t stop from asking the last question.  “What does my blood smell like?”  She saw Nick’s eyes change to their golden-green color and just the tips of his fangs could be detected behind his open smile.  She didn’t move as he slowly advanced and leaned over her. 

“It’s okay, Nat.  I’m in control.”

She knew she wasn’t afraid, not of Nick; never of Nick.  Natalie felt him lean in, his head near her cheek, his mouth just over her shoulder.  She heard his slow intake of air, felt his breath on her skin when he exhaled.  She sensed the darkness in him, and it felt a little deeper than before.  It reminded her of what she had felt, what she was attracted to, when she first met LaCroix.  Natalie slightly rose up to be closer to him, to be closer to the source of her desire, feeling like something in her matched with him.

Nick pulled away from her, forcing himself to calm back down, thrusting the vampire back down.  “You smell of peaches and pomegranates,” he uttered as he reached for the bottle.


	9. Chapter 9

She had been watching her two detectives sort through their piles of paperwork and reports on the Duncan case across their joined desks.  Cohen crossed her arms.  This particular case, despite everyone’s effort, had hit a wall.  Everything pointed to nothing.  She indicated a close-by pile of papers on Schanke’s desk.  “These are the interviews of all the chemistry faculty and staff.  You say most of them didn’t seem really bothered over Duncan’s death.”         

“No, many weren’t,” Nick answered.  “But each one had an alibi that checked out.  Many were at a house party at the time.”

“Oh, please,” Schanke chimed in before Nick could continue.  “All they had to do was lie for each other.” 

“There was also no trace evidence from them found on the scene.”

“So what?  Duncan was a chemistry researcher, and so is everyone who worked under him.  They would all know how to clean up a crime scene, or went prepared wearing gloves.  They would know what we would look for.” 

“So you are saying,” Cohen responded, “is they conspired to kill him?  Or they are covering up for one of them after the fact?”    

“Captain,” Schanke answered, “all I’m saying is you look to see who benefited the most.  That would be Adam Miller.”  He raised his fingers to count off his points.  “What he got was the job, the huge pay increase, the bigger lab space, the respect, and not being under Duncan anymore.  Everyone said Miller had been wanting that position for years and felt he should have gotten it sooner.  Perhaps Miller simply helped speed up his promotion and figured no one would really object so would provide him the alibi and help he needed.  Plus, he wasn’t shocked or dismayed when we informed him of Duncan’s death.” 

“So,” Cohen shook her head, “promotion and money were the motives?  Knight, you look hesitant, do you think it might have been Miller?”

Nick folded his arms.  “No, I don’t.”  He gave a slight shake to his head, then uncrossed his arms.  “I don’t know.  There was the history teacher, Drych.”  He heard Schanke groan.  “Forensics found samples from her at the scene and his blood was saturated into her clothes.  And her prints were found on the opener.”

“She was also the first on scene and made the call,” Schanke reminded Nick.  “It made sense.  She was simply someone who walked by Duncan’s office, heard a noise and saw him on the floor.  Then,” he emphasized with his hands, looking directly at Nick, “as the nice, decent person she is, she went to check on him to help him, took out the letter opener and tried to stop the bleeding but he died anyway, then called the police.”  Schanke paused to take a deep breath.  “Drych had no ties to him, his department, and no gossip about her that the other faculty or HR knew.”  He made a halting gesture with his hands, he could tell Nick wanted to interrupt him again.  “She said she was walking down that corridor to get to the copy room because she had exams to make.  The fact that she had the master copy of the exam with her, and the syllabus stated the exam date, confirmed that she really did just need to make copies for the next day’s exam.”

Captain Cohen thought that all sounded very logical and eyed Nick.  “Well?”

Nick glared at Schanke.  “She was from the history department, which is three floors down.  Each floor has a copy room, yet she went to that particular floor, on that night, at that late time, to make copies.”

“Did you ask her about that?” Cohen inquired.

Nick turned to his Captain.  He exhaled.  “She said preferred the copy machine on that floor because it didn’t jam as much as the others did.  As for the time, she said she had forgotten until that moment that she needed the exam copies for the next day.” 

“Sounds very reasonable,” Cohen responded.  “Yet … you still think she is involved?”

“Schanke’s right.  There is absolutely no physical evidence tying anyone to his death, including Professor Drych.  But when I was talking with her … it might be a gut feeling, but I felt like she was teetering on the edge, possessive, or dangerously obsessive.  Something wasn’t right.”

Schanke shook his head.  “She is a very caring individual, you don’t find many like that.  Even all the students we could talk with said they loved her.”

 _Love_.  The charcoal sketch on the corkboard flashed before Nick's eyes. “Yeah,” he quickly responded, “but whom did she love?  I mean, maybe she loved Duncan and he called the relationship off, or something.” 

Cohen shook her head.  “You said there were no rumors.  Believe me, if there was gossip, with all the individuals you interviewed, someone would have said something, even if it was just a whisper.  Nothing like that stays a secret for long, especially when one of the lovers is murdered.”

Nick looked down at his hands.  “Maybe no one knew because they didn’t tell anyone, or,” he paused, thinking for a moment, “there was no actual relationship.  It could have just been all in her own mind.”  He looked up.  “A dream or fantasy of hers.”  He knew what that was like; how easily you could get caught up in a fantasy.  The memory of a dancing angel on a dark stage twirled past him.  He also knew what could happen when the fantasy was shattered to pieces.  “If she found out her fantasy wasn’t real, she might have snapped and reached for the first thing she could.”

“So what you are saying is that she confronted Duncan,” Schanke said, “and he didn’t accept her love, so she killed him?  My gut feeling after talking with her: she’s too nice a person to do something like that.  I just don’t think she could do it.”

Nick shrugged.  “People have done crazier things when they are in love.  Or think they are in love.  To not have love in your life, to feel that emptiness, you might try anything, do anything to fill that void.  Even create a fantasy, and then she couldn’t handle the reality.”

“But no evidence either way.  Detectives, I don’t have to tell you that you will need more than just feelings on this one.”

Schanke exhaled.  “You’re right, Captain.  With nothing else, we would need a full-blown confession.  We could always call a few people and Drych back in for a follow-up interview.  Just in case some of them remember anything more or have heard something new.  Or want to confess anything.”

“Schanke,” Nick started, “I don’t think she’s just going to open up to you and say she killed someone.”

“No,” Schanke said, “but she might to you.”

Nick shook his head.  “So I’ll be the bait to draw her out?”

“It’s your theory,” Schanke responded.  “And she likes you.”  He turned to Cohen.  “What do you think, Captain?”   

“I’m fine with that, just don’t coerce anything.  And Knight, make sure your gut feeling on this wasn’t just indigestion.  Either determine she is the murderer or let your idea go.  Schanke, the same goes for you with Miller.  We need closure to this case.  Gentlemen, you both know how I feel about cases being outstanding for too long a time.” 

Once Cohen had left to return to her office, Schanke sat at his desk and picked up the phone to make the calls for some of the school personnel to come back in.  Grasping the bottom of the handset in his left hand, he used his right hand to scan down the page in front of him, looking for the phone numbers, then punching them into the keypad.

“Make sure you let them pick a night convenient for them.  We don’t want them to think they are the main suspects and decide to skip.” 

Schanke nodded to show he had heard.  Once finished, he mentioned that Drych seemed excited to be able to talk with Nick again, and had made it clear she only wanted to talk to Nick.  His partner refused to comment.

On the night of the first interview, Schanke had been getting ready with Natalie and a few other personal in the room adjoining the interrogation room.  Natalie was there to confirm if the statements Drych said agreed with the autopsy findings of what had happened.  Through the observation mirror, he finally saw an officer escort the professor into the interrogation room and left her there.  Captain Cohen came into the observation room and a few moments later, his partner entered the interrogation room and sat next to Drych.  He listened as Nick talked with her about history, surprised that Nick knew that much.  Don knew Nick needed to encourage her to keep talking and then he would gently have the conversation drift to Duncan.

“Do you think Nick will be safe in there with her?  She is the main murder suspect, right?  I thought Nick said she might be unstable.”  Natalie was not enthusiastic about this plan and had reminded Nick to not try and hypnotize her, not with so many people carefully watching this interview.     

“He’s fine.  I think Miller did it anyway.”  Plus, Schanke thought, he wanted to see one of Knight’s hunches be wrong.  That didn’t happen very often. 

The woman had leaned in toward Nick and was whispering something to him that Natalie couldn’t hear.  “I’m really worried, Schanke.  I feel like we’re opening Pandora’s Box here.  Anything could come out; anything could happen in there.”  She was still working on a balance to Nick’s diet, and though Nick said he was fine, she wasn’t completely convinced that he could contain the vampire if triggered. 

“Natalie, Nick knows what he’s doing.  Besides, she likes him; I even thought for a while that Nick should go out with her.  He’s completely safe.  It’s not like she is going to attack him; she’s in a precinct full of cops.”  Schanke looked through the two-way mirror and saw fast movement, then heard the crash of furniture and bodies hitting the floor.  “Oh man, she just hit him!”  Schanke was quickly moving past everyone to get into the interview room to help his partner.

Nick, still on the floor, tried to restrain the now hysterical suspect struggling in his arms.  His split lip was healing from the punches he had just received.  Aida had injured herself scraping her knuckles against his teeth and Nick had gotten some of her blood into his mouth.  He now knew three things because of this blood.  One: she was very irritated that he didn’t love her like she loved him.  Two: she had loved Duncan and was enraged he hadn’t returned her love, so had killed him.  Three: the fresh blood had roused the vampire and his fangs had already dropped and locked in place, eager for the easy prey that was still within his grasp.  The woman on top of him struggled, but Nick knew she would not get away.  Fangs bared, he angled his head for the strike but at the last moment the woman was violently wrenched away from him.  He felt a sharp stab of pain in his leg, but he ignored it; he was irritated that his prey was getting away.  Attempting to rise, he was pushed back down, his eyes covered, and warm mortal flesh pressed against his mouth.  Wasting no time, he sank his fangs in, piercing a vessel and drew the blood out as fast as possible.  But there was a problem, this blood tasted different than what he had gotten from the woman who had attacked him.  Before Nick could lurch free and hunt down his real target, his mind had already been drawn inexorably down into a hazy fog.  Then he passed out, the lingering taste of peaches and pomegranates still on his tongue.


End file.
